V for Viking
by Ikedawg43
Summary: While searching for missing Vikings, Astrid finds the man who killed them: Hiccup. After six years, Hiccup has returned to Berk hell-bent on killing everyone...for some reason. Astrid is left torn between trying to save herself, her tribe, and Hiccup' soul, and soon finds herself failing at all three. Astrid will have to decide whether she can give up on Hiccup to save her home.
1. Missing Vikings: Presumed Slaughtered

V for Viking

Author's Note: Alright, if you are looking for a feel-good, plain ole' Hicstrid story, just keep on going. If you're looking for your average 'M' rated Hicstrid story, again keep going you filthy animal :P. However, if you are looking for a gritty, violent, and potential heart-crushing story…well, stick around. If you were a fan of the 'evil-Hiccup' theme from my other HTTYD story "Exodus and Return-us" then you will like this.

Reviews are welcome, especially since this is going to be much different from your normal story and as such responses will vary. I want to hear anyone's thoughts. Keep in mind though that this story should elicit strong responses, and those may not be sunshine and rainbows.. :D

Here it is… V for Viking (which is totally a play on 'V for Vendetta')

Chapter 1—Astrid's POV

The whole village has been on alert. It's been six years since our last dragon raid, but that doesn't mean that we've forgotten the terror those beasts bring. Ever since the Chief's son disappeared—just before the raids stopped—the island knows to drop everything if someone goes missing. I don't know if the Chief is worried that someone else could die or just wants a chance to kill a kidnapping dragon, but either way everyone is on the lookout.

And the best of us, whether with a blade or at tracking, are on the hunt. And since I'm one of the best in both areas, I get to hunt alone so no one slows me down. Just one of the few perks on being the #1 Shield Maiden in the Archipelago.

Two men didn't come home last night. They aren't anyone important—just two loudmouths who enjoyed heckling my generation as we grew up—but they were friends of Spitelout. Because I am considered the best at this sort of thing, Spitelout told me and only me that he knew the men were planning on going into the forest after drinking last night. I guess Spitelout felt he could trust that I would find them and bring them back to him before they embarrassed themselves anymore.

I guess that's what my reputation has bought me. Astrid the Faithful, one step above Astrid the Loyal. When I won that competition among Shield Maidens from all tribes, they decided that I needed a new name to commemorate my accomplishment. I'm not certain whether 'Loyal' or 'Faithful' sounds any better than the other, but I've taken the title nonetheless.

Unfortunately for Spitelout, it doesn't seem like his friends are in any kind of simple trouble: I've been searching for hours without a trace. The deal was that after eight hours of no word that Spitelout would send others to search. That should have happened two hours ago.

I'm probably a good two hours away from Berk now, and I've been doing everything I can yet still haven't found anything. Aside from 'they're going to test their drunken aim' I don't know anything.

Eventually, I came across a tall stone cliff. It went straight up for a good hundred feet and basically represented the beginning of Berk's main mountain. I stopped to catch my breath and eat a small snack in the shade of a nearby tree, and while I ate my eyes wondered to the cliff-wall.

The wall was impossibly smooth because it faced the brunt of the ocean's wind, yet for some reason up one side there were small holes made. It almost seemed like someone had cut out small handholds in the wall so that they could climb up.

I put my food and water away and investigated the holes. They were about six inches deep and were wider than they were tall, as if someone had stabbed this wall with a really strong weapon.

I seriously doubted that either of the drunk men would have made this if they had made it this far drunk, but mission or no this warranted exploration. It seemed like an odd choice for a cliff climbing trip for anyone because there wasn't any rock at the top to tie off on; this is a no-failure task with very high risk.

Regardless, I started climbing. Even with my pack and my axe on my back, I was eventually able to make it to the top. Up top there was a cave in the side of the cliff, and above that there was even more cliff. It looked as if the cave had seen recent activity, so I unsheathed my axe and investigated.

For most of the time, the cave was dark and I stayed to the edges. Eventually, I saw an orange-ish light at the end of the cave. When I got there, I was extremely surprised to see a lava pit in the middle of the ground. I had no clue that Berk's small peak was a volcano, but when I looked up I didn't see any hole at the top.

It must be dormant. I was about to leave, before something at the corner of the room caught my eye. Despite the sweltering heat, I stayed to examine what was a peg-board of sorts. All the words were written in some strange, connected, squiggly language. There seemed to be a triangle scheme among the writing, and I could identify several dozen separate sections, until at the top there were two sections that headed the pyramid.

"Well, that's not how a pyramid works…" I mused aloud. Indeed, instead of a true pyramid, it looked like the board's owner couldn't decide which section belonged on top, and put them both there for the moment.

"Alright, I've had enough of this heat." I decided to leave until something caught my eye. At the bottom of the pyramid, two sections had a big X through them, and a pendant hung from each section. And judging by Spitelout's description, these two pendants belong to my two missing men.

My eyes went wide, and my head whipped to the lava pit. A chill ran down my spine, and I decided that it was time to leave this cave before its resident returned. If this person killed two Vikings, then I don't want to risk taking him on alone. If I fail, no one will ever find this place, and we will have _three_ missing persons.

Once I was back outside, I prepared to climb back down before I noticed someone climbing up. The person was clad in black armor, which only served to multiply my fears.

"Ah, don't worry, I won't fall. You always tell me to keep training, so here I am training!...What? You don't like that I'm stabbing my way up a cliff? Well, get over it!" I could faintly hear the man in black armor having a conversation with someone I could neither see nor hear. I assume that they are hiding under the tree.

"Damn. I'm not getting down without being spotted." I looked around for someplace to hide, and right above the place that the man below was set to come up was a large boulder that I could take cover behind. I got into place, set my bag down, and readied my axe.

"Watch, I can even do it one-handed!" The voice was closer.

"WHOOPS! Two hands it is…sorry." It was very close.

"See, I made it." The voice made it over the edge.

The man walked past my spot, and I jumped out axe first. Just before I made contact with his back, my axe was blasted out of my hands by a blast of fire, and I turned my head to find a Deadly Nadder giving me a death glare. The next thing I knew I was roundhouse kicked by the man, and when I tried to pick myself off the ground I was greeted with a blade to my neck.

The man angrily grumbled something at me in a language I can't begin to understand—probably the same language written on the board. When I didn't reply in his language, he gave me death glare that put the Nadder to shame. Despite the fact that there was a dragon _right there_ , I refused to break eye contact.

He wore a mask that covered his forehead and mouth, and formed a point that covered his nose but left his eyes and the side of his temples exposed. The entire armor was a deep midnight blue—nearly black—and features some sort of shingle design like a roof. Or a dragon.

Suddenly, his eyes went wide and he pulled back on his weapons—double short spears with a half-foot arrow at the end—and he stumbled back a few feet.

" _Astrid?!_ " he asked surprised.

I wasn't going to let this opportunity pass. I kicked up with my feet and managed to knock off his helmet—nearly missing his chin—before I rolled backwards into a standing position. The man barked an order at the dragon and held his hand out to stay it, before shaking his head and adopting a defensive position.

"Do I know you?"

"I hope not." He replied, and a charged him with my now-retrieved axe.

In about five moves, I was again disarmed and held at the end of a blade. He seemed extremely proficient with his weapons, as he not only defeated me but made a show of it simultaneously. One spear would distract me with spins and twirls while the other made short work of getting caught in the curve of my axe. With one simple yank, I was defenseless.

He held his spear again to my neck. This time, I got to see his whole face. I finally noticed his green eyes—not a bright green, but a faded green—and the curve of his face. It seemed familiar. It wasn't until I saw a small scar on his chin that I realized who this was.

" _Hiccup?!_ " I asked incredulously.

"Oh, son of a _BITCH_."

"Hiccup! What the hell are you doing alive?!"

He again retracted his weapon, and turned his back as he paces around and ran his hands through his hair. I was about to approach him, but the growl of a certain Nadder held me at bay.

"Hiccup, what's going on? Have you seen two drunk idiots?"

Hiccup remained silent, but at least turned around to face me. His head suddenly turned to the Nadder, and he paused as if it was _talking to him_.

"Aww, come on. I guess we could tell her."

I swear, the Nadder shook its head at him, but he ignored it.

"I'm here... well, I'm here to avenge a friend."

That caught my attention.

"What do you mean 'avenge a friend'? Are you planning on _killing_ people?" I asked, not sure if to mock him or question his sanity.

He frowned slightly, and took a deep breath before responding.

"Well, I've kinda already started. You're looking for Griff and Svimmon, correct?"

My eyes went wide, and the chills from earlier returned to my spine. I gave a small, terrified nod.

"Yea…good luck with that."

I froze, and Hiccup just kinda looked at me, waiting for a response. Eventually, I was able to sum up my shock in one word.

" _WHAT?!_ "

"They're dead. Melted, actually. Not alive, mind you, but gone nonetheless."

My mind flew into a frenzy. How could Hiccup do this? There's no way that he would do this. No one would do this to their tribe! This is insane!

Then, I thought of a possible scenario where this makes sense. They ran into Hiccup while they were drunk, and Hiccup must have thought he was in danger. He probably killed them in self-defense and disposed of the bodies. It's still bad, but not horrible…in a way.

"Did they attack you?"

"No. I attacked them."

And like that, my rationality was shattered and my mind shifted into overdrive. Panic flooded my mind, and my breathing started to speed up.

"Why? Why would you hurt them?"

Hiccup again shared a glance with the Nadder.

"They were on my list. They were actually the first ones on my list."

I started to hyperventilate, and I was torn between my complete disbelief of the situation, my desire to get to the bottom of this, and my ever-urgent need to get the hell out of here.

"Calm down, Astrid. Breathe. There you go, just breathe. Once you're calm, I'll answer some questions. I'm sure that your mind must be struggling to understand this." Odd. I'm not really in a state to judge this, but that last sentence seemed…melancholy. Reserved, for someone who murdered two men and is eager to answer questions.

I saw down at the base of the cave, and Hiccup retrieved my pack, then handed me my water. I took a sip to try to calm my breathing, and my brain realized that I needed to not hyperventilate if I didn't want to choke.

"There. I'm sure you're dying to ask me something, so go ahead."

"Uh, what is…that…doing there?" I asked, not so subtlety referring to the dragon in the room.

"Oh, you mean Metalbreath? Yea, well the dragons just kinda seem to follow me around ever since I killed their Queen. And their Alpha."

Okay, so that really doesn't help me right now. There's a lot of information there that doesn't interest me right now, but is surprising nonetheless.

"So _you_ killed a dragon?" I asked cuttingly. Hiccup flinched, almost as if I had hit a tender spot or an old wound, but he hid it well.

"Well, not alone…but yes, many." He replied in another melancholy tone. This definitely is not the same Hiccup that disappeared years ago.

Hiccup sat down against Metalbreath the Nadder, and removed his freaking foot.

"What the…?"

"Oh, yea. I never was one to let losing a foot slow me down. I found a kick-ass use for this leg now…"

He removed the foot and part of his shin, and brought it up to his chest. He slowly unclasped a lid that hid into the top of the foot. I expected him to pull out a weapon or some cool map or just something else mysterious, but instead he proceeded to drink the contents of his leg.

"Um…what is that?" I asked. It was a red liquid, but I was too far any to determine anything other than that.

"Only the best rum known to man. I've been saving this for…well, a stressful day in the near future, but this works too."

My eyebrows arched up, and I gave him an incredulous look.

"You use a secret compartment in your leg to store _rum_?"

After he finished the whole thing, he reattached his foot.

"Metalbreath, remind me to thank that pirate—sorry, _privateer_ —sometime soon. This was the best idea ever."

With his foot now reattached, he looked back to me. I gave him a flat look.

"What's in your arm, a _Madam_?"

"Nope, I reserve those for my pants!" He responded with a grin, and I immediately shook my head of the thoughts that spawned there.

Well, now is as good a time as any to shift this conversation.

"So, tell me again why you are murdering your tribe?"

Hiccup went stiff, and despite having just downed a good bit of rum his gaze was stony as ever.

"That…that's the one thing I'd like to keep to myself."

"Well, sorry, that option went away when you killed two men and took me hostage!"

The Nadder behind Hiccup almost chuckled at that, and Hiccup nudged it with his elbow.

"…Fair enough."

"You said you're avenging someone. What did we ever do to you?!" I asked angrily. I was feeling a good bit defensive, seeing as our heir—or I suppose former heir if he's intent on killing us—is being quite offensive. Not 'ouch my feelings are hurt' offensive, but 'ouch I am killed' offensive.

"It's not _that_ simple, Astrid."

"Oh, well, _please_! Enlighten _the shit_ out of me!" I yelled with equal parts anger and sass.

Hiccup stood up and turned away, and I noticed his hands had curled into fists. Good; if he is struggling with this, then maybe he can be swayed. If not, at least I've caused him some trouble with it.

"My best friend—my _only_ friend—of all time was killed recently. An old injury that Berk caused him kept him from being fast enough to live. Just another inch and we _both_ would have made it.

"I did manage to kill them men responsible for his death, but it's _not enough_. The last thing he ever heard was me telling him that those responsible would pay, and I intend to keep that promise. To remind me of my goal, I don his scales as my armor—his idea, I swear—everyday."

The amount of pain that that story caused Hiccup must have been incredible based upon to look in his eyes. It looked like his eyes had died; the old, vibrant green had faded into a forest-green grave. Even his voice, which till now was cheerful and even playful, seemed to just die. I couldn't tell if his voice was about to crack or cry or scream in rage.

But the amount of pain this man's death caused Hiccup cannot be underestimated.

Wait a minute…

"This is all about a _dragon!?_ It isn't even a real person!?"

Almost instantaneously, Hiccup slapped me with the flat part of the arrow on his spear. I saw stars, and the pain in my cheek was almost unbearable. I was unhurt except for a small slice from the tip of the spear and the pain from being slapped much harder than I thought was possible.

"IF. YOU. SAY. THAT. AGAIN. I. WILL. NOT. HOLD. BACK." Hiccup spoke slowly and made sure that the murderous intent behind his words was delivered in full.

I went _completely_ silent. So much of this situation was new and different that I was terrified.

Yet, somehow, I still found some fight within me.

"I've never seen a dragon like that here, or anywhere to be exact." I didn't openly defy him, but I implied that Berk didn't hurt his dragon. I just hope he isn't too pissed.

"You haven't ever seen it, but I would imagine that you've heard the Night Fury one or two times…"

"Those are _Night Fury_ scales?! How did you meet a Night Fury!?"

Hiccup started to pace around the room, with his weapons still in hand to serve as a reminder what _not_ to say.

"The same way he was injured. For years, I was nothing around here. Just a screw-up, a curse, and failure that everyone had to deal with. My like sucked, okay? It truly did. Everything I _ever_ did to help backfired and set me worse off than before. All I ever wanted to do was be like the rest of you; to catch everyone's eye and be accepted. I eventually figured that, to climb out of the hole I was in, I had to take down a Night Fury…so I did. And no one cared. My triumph brought me nothing, and it injured my soon-to-be friend permanently. It ripped his tailfin off, and because of that he is _dead_ now!"

"And _that's_ why you want to kill your tribe? Because you used to suck and now you're friend died?" I asked, almost not sure if he would admit to such a condensed statement or if he was the 'justification' type.

"More or less, yes. For the role you played in his death."

Something within me went off. How DARE he pin this on us?! Is he so delusional that he blames us for all that has happened!? Has Hiccup truly gone insane, or is he no longer that kind person who tried to help Gobber?!

I rose to my feet, and quickly walked forward until Hiccup and I were less than a foot away. My anger was threatening to spill over, and I was lucky that I didn't strike him then and there.

I looked up into his eyes, and nearly exploded.

"In case you didn't notice, we aren't to blame for all of us! If you _really_ want someone to pin his death on, you should think REALLY hard about who is to blame…"

With my bit said, I felt smugly satisfied with myself. That is, until I saw his lifeless eyes explode ten times more violently than I just did.

"YES, I KNOW. I WILL BE THE FIRST TO ADMIT THAT TOOTHLESS IS DEAD BECAUSE OF ME! IF ANYONE SHOULD DIE TO AVENGE TOOTHLESS, **I SHOULD BE FIRST**. I SHOULD DIE; IF ONLY I COULD BE SO LUCKY. BUT THAT'S THE ONE THING I _CAN'T_ DO, ASTRID!"

I don't know whether he grew or I shrunk, but now I was terrified AND he looked monstrous. I was shaking and my spine had long since turned to ice, and I just stood there and watched in horror as things fell silent.

After a long, pregnant pause, Hiccup finally seemed to have control over himself. But not before planting his spear two feet deep into the rock wall.

"I can't just kill myself—I can't take the cowards way out now. I can't bear to be any more of a failure that I already am. I can't just _die_ ; I need to kill until I am killed. And so far, I haven't found anyone who was able to kill me."

"S-so what are you going to do? Am I-I…are you…?"

He still seemed to be reeling his anger in, but almost took pity on me with what he said.

"I'm going to follow the list. Don't worry, now's not your time. There will be many dead before I get to you. If I'm lucky, someone will kill me before it comes to that.

"Unfortunately, I am never very lucky."

Author's Note: Yea, so Hiccup has a kill-list. How sweet. I don't expect this story to be very long, so I don't intend to fully explain everything. A few references or hints about what sort of timeline this story has, but that's it. Next chapter will actually be the end unless I think of another thing I want to accomplish before I end this.

As always, please review!


	2. A Delicate Situation

V for Viking

Chapter 2 – Astrid's POV

I'm trapped in a cave with a lunatic. Okay, so that's not fair. He's just emotionally unstable and fueled by the purest rage I've ever seen.

Either way, this is not good.

After he made a cryptic threat, he walked over to the edge of the cliff to cool off. The Nadder is still watching me, but all I've done is sit against the cave wall and think.

I need to find out more about what is going on. Hiccup was never one to hold a grudge…or was he? I never _saw_ him get back at anyone, but then again he was never actually able to achieve his own revenge. I guess years of bottled ridicule would irk anyone, but I still don't but into Hiccup's story yet. Everyone loses friends in battle; that's just a hazard of being a Viking. For some reason, Hiccup wants to take on the world and spill as much blood as possible.

Which is still a pretty significant Viking trait, now that I think about it.

I need more information. Hiccup has had plenty of time to cool off; perhaps he just needed someone to lend an ear. Often time just saying things out loud points out errors in your line of thinking, and I can tell that Hiccup has already had a few snags through our 'talk' so far.

Unfortunately, he didn't seem to care that his logic was flawed. He plowed on regardless.

I slowly walked over to where Hiccup was standing, walking with heavy steps so I didn't surprise him.

"A Night Fury, huh? Is that why the Nadder follows you? Was it like a pack leader?"

I must have said something wrong, because Hiccup's hand instinctively curled into fist. Fortunately, he caught himself and unfurled his fingers. It's something that I've seen _many_ pissed Vikings do; namely, his father. But usually Chief Stoic displays a temper to compete with Thor when he makes a fist.

"He. Not it." He grumbled to correct me.

I fought a serious urge to roll my eyes, which would probably ignite the anger that is obviously stirring inside of him.

"Noted. Was _he_ why the Nadder obeys you?"

Again, I said the wrong thing, but instead of a fist this time Hiccup flinched inwards on himself.

"And not 'obeys.' They all have free will, but they just…want to help me. I suppose it's a gift I have."

"Some gift. If Odin gave me the 'ability' to walk up to a dragon and put my life in its hands, I think I'd start worshipping the Frost Giants…"

Hiccup almost laughed (and by that, he blew a slight bit of air out of his nose), but let the conversation die.

Okay, so that was a little informative. Let's try a different approach.

"So, your list…are you just going to melt everyone in order? Because that seems like a silly plan, to tell me that I'm not going to die yet and let me raise an alarm…"

Hiccup's expression remained unreadable, but he at least turned his head in my direction.

"No, the melting was…impromptu. I have quite a nasty little sadistic side, and toying with drunk Vikings before their death was…" he trailed off, almost biting his tongue to stop himself.

I tried my _absolute_ hardest not to react to what he was saying. If he was trusting me enough to talk, then I can use this. I don't know if I can save him, or even stop him, but at this rate I might be able to try.

"Was…?"

"Let's just say it was too familiar. I will not kill anyone like that again…"

Oh, that's just a perfect spot for a question. I don't know how he will react to this next question, but this is too good of a chance to ask.

"Then how are you going to kill us?" I asked as innocently as possible given my position.

Hiccup took a long and deliberate breath while frowning, and started to open his mouth before closing it again. He was probably searching for a good word, then came across another idea altogether. Good; that means there are things he hasn't thought out and he is confronting them.

"Why do you say 'us'?"

"Because you said I was going to die…"

"Oh, yea. That's right…" he trailed off insecurely, reminding me of the boy that he used to be. It was refreshing and reassuring to see the old Hiccup.

It was also pretty nice that he forgot that I was going to die. That means he was likely trying to scare me earlier, and that I may not be on the list after all. But then again, _this_ could be a trick.

"How did you rank your list? There weren't enough spots on the board for the whole village…"

Perhaps, if he tells me the criteria, I can decide whether or not I am on there for myself.

"You are _really_ , _really_ reaching here, huh? Fine, if you want to do this… I can't completely put it into words—it's a gut feeling thing—but I guess I would say that the list ranks people who were significant in making my upbringing awful."

"So how did Griff and Svimmon fit into that?"

"…I needed two more people to have an even 28 names. That makes it go 7-6-5-4-3-2-1, like a pyramid. I don't know, I never had a huge problem with them, but a lot of the things they said just stuck in my mind. They were memorable, and right now my memories are not my friends…"

I decided to wait before responding. I have plenty to say, but our last talk exploded in my face, so I'm going to play this one safe. After a good pause, I decided to ask a question that would let Hiccup decide where the conversation would go. So far, those kinds of questions have resulted in the most information in the calmest way possible.

Gods, I sound like I'm trying to soothe a dragon with words. I feel insane right now.

"So you're just going to do what? Jump off buildings and stab everyone in order?"

Crap. I used way too much sass in that statement, and I'm already regretting every word.

"Watch it, #29." He said warningly but with a playful undertone.

His tone was quite appropriate, and I froze as I dissected his words. There are 28 people who he wants dead, and I'm number 29.

Should I feel flattered, outraged, or lucky?

Let's go with outraged. Or at least playful, if he's willing.

"Oh, I'm not even top 10? I must have done something wrong…"

Hiccup cringed. He _cringed_. Just that simple action made my stomach flop, and I think I may have just committed the stupidest mistake ever. Of all time.

"No, you all did 'something wrong.' If you had done anything right, then I wouldn't have left…"

I wanted to press that statement. To find out what exactly he means when he left. Where did he go? What has he seen? But everything I say right is always followed by two things wrong, and I'm scared of saying something damaging again.

I need to say something safe. To change the subject completely. Get his mind off of all this dark stuff.

"So where did you learn how to use weapons so well?"

Hiccup looked down and shook his head slightly, before looking me dead in the eye.

"South."

"And what about that pirate you mentioned? Where did you meet him?"

Still completely deadpan (but without any playful undertones anymore; just aggravated ones), he replied.

"Southwest."

"And where was the best rum ever from?"

It worked. His deadpan broke and a small grin fought its way to his mouth. Hiccup never was one to let sarcastic opportunities go to waste, no matter the circumstance.

"East of Southwest."

Despite my success at lightening the mood, I got fed up with his sarcastic replies. I mean, I'm trying to help. Even if he can't see it, surely he can' be this abrasive. I'm giving him a chance to embellish tales of faraway lands. Everyone loves that; just ask Trader Johan. My patience wore thin, and what I said next I said without even thinking.

"Gah, you have this whole Viking thing down. As stubborn as the day is long, bad temper, and _awful_ naming. I mean, 'Toothless' for a Night Fur-OOMPH!"

I never finished that sentence. In a flash, Hiccup grabbed a knife from his belt and flung it at me, catching me in the stomach and forcing me to fall onto my back, which only further jostled my new stab wound.

I was so stupid. I said so much in that one sentence that I'm surprised he didn't kill me.

"GRAAHH! You **HAD** to say that, didn't you!? I'm here trying to forget the rest of Berk and give you a chance, and you throw salt into my wounds just like everyone else! What is it with you Hooligans and twisting the knives in my back!?

"You know what, if you _really_ wanted to do this, then FINE. If you're going to pry for information, either be cunning or direct. _That_ is what Astrid would do. Don't be awkward like…well, like _me_. But you wanted to know how I'm going to kill my list? Well, this _pleasant_ trip down memory lane has inspired me. I'm going to Berk tear itself apart. I'll apply pressure in all the right places, and watch them kill themselves. The years of trust they've built with each other…I'm going to corrupt it in a matter of days. Then, when only the most paranoid and most ruthless are left, I'll find out who the real bastards truly are. Berk has been a snake-pit for years, and I'm going to find out who the venomous ones are!"

I held the knife a still as I could and applied pressure around it, hoping to at least stay some bleeding. However, Hiccup walked over me and planted his foot on my shoulder, pinning me to the ground. I writhed in pain and was about to say something before he pulled the knife back out. My eyes shot open and went as wide as they could; we both knew that I was less likely to survive with the knife removed.

Hiccup walked over to my head and crouched down next to my face.

"Look, you've awakened my sadistic side. You have two options… One: you bleed to death up here and I'll melt your body later, or Two: you're going to lay very still while my Nadder cauterizes that wound. You are going to have to let this dragon save your life, and it is going to sting like a bitch. What do you say, do you want to live?"

I balled my hands into fists and squeezed to try to block out the pain, but I found I was unable to. I pride myself on being tough and fighting through pain, and this isn't my first serious wound, but this hurts much worse than anything else I've gone through.

"You can't fight through this Astrid. My throwing knives are laced with different things from different places. _That_ particular one is designed to increase pain. For about an hour, the pain will escalate until you faint…or die. You can't win this, Astrid. Die or be saved by a dragon."

I shut my eyes tightly, and tried with everything I could to block or even tolerate the pain. Nothing worked, and I finally laid my head back and opened my eyes. I unfurled my hands and nodded to Hiccup.

"Good. Metalbreath, patch her up. I've got some things I need to prepare. Take her to the cove outside of the village when you finish."

Hiccup whistled and suddenly a Changewing appeared from the ceiling. Apparently, it had been invisible this whole time.

And apparently, it wasn't alone. Hiccup mounted one, then turned to give me one last word before leaving.

"Now, Miss Hofferson, I would recommend you bite your tongue on what you've seen here today. If you tell anyone about a crazy, dragon-riding ex-heir hell-bent on killing Berkians, I'm afraid all you will do scare some and upset some others…..actually, that makes my job easier. By all means, do what you feel is best!"

He flew off, and the Nadder approached me. The pain in my gut had reached a height that I didn't care at all what happened next, but I was prepared for the Nadder to just let loose a stream of fire wider than me. After a few seconds of nothing, I opened my eyes to see the Nadder giving me a small piece of bark with its beak. I was confused, until I realized that I was supposed to bite down on it.

"Oh…uh…thanks?"

The Nadder squawked, and looked at the wound. I moved my hands and tore away the fabric around the cut, then bit down on my bark.

It hurt more than like a bitch. I'd say it hurt like at least 43 bitches. Instead of a wall of flame, the Nadder used a very small and precise flame that sealed the wound under ten seconds. Ten agonizing seconds, but ten seconds nonetheless.

And then I blacked out. When I awoke, it was dark outside. That wasn't surprising, considering it was nearly sunset when Hiccup stabbed me. I was in a nice cove, and there was water nearby. My wound hurt but there was a strange tingling that helped keep the pain at bay. It was far better than any healing salve I've ever had.

I removed my top and washed the blood out of it in the nearby water, before wondering what to do about the knife-hole. I decided that since it was late, I would just slip into my window and go to bed after changing, and worry about all of this tomorrow. Maybe it was this tingling or maybe it was the events of the day, but I felt exhausted and sleep called to me despite having woken up recently.

Fortunately, because everyone was still on the hunt for Griff and Svimmon, my hall would be empty. During these searches, people who come back empty-handed usually head straight for bed without reporting to anyone so that they can get as much rest as possible before waking up to search in the light.

Uneventfully, I made it to my hall. I hung up my armor-skirt and tossed my top to the side of the room. I placed my shoulder pads in their place, and put on the first sleeping garb I saw.

I don't even remember getting into bed. I just remember being woken up at the crack of dawn—much earlier than I had planned on waking up at—by a hurricane of commotion. My parents told me to get out of bed and head down to the docks.

I dragged myself out of bed one limb at a time, and my stomach wound flared up once or twice slowing me down even further. I groggily dawned my clothes and armed myself with only a light dagger. I didn't need to carry an axe all day with my stomach the way it is.

As I headed down to the docks, a crowd had already former. I must have just missed an announcement or something, because everyone was fighting for a view and talking to their neighbor.

"Can't believe it."

"Miracle of the Gods, it is!"

"Miracle of the Gods indeed! Look at how big he is now!"

There was an overall sense of wonder and astonishment that mixed in with a general pleasant feeling from the crowd. I carefully pushed and shoved my way through the crowd—careful not to reopen my wound—and finally arrived at the edge of a circle in the crowd. Everyone had given space to the few people in the middle.

My eyes went wide and my mouth went agape when I saw Stoic, Gobber, and Spitelout standing there with Hiccup.

He saw me in the crowd, and gave me a wink. And not the 'hey there' kind of wink. The 'checkmate' kind of wink.


	3. You're ALIVE Oh wait you're dead again

V for Viking

Chapter 3 - Astrid's POV

This day is shaping up to be very…odd, to say the least. After everything that went down last night, Hiccup decides to show up and reveal himself to the whole tribe. I don't know what he's planning on doing, but it is clear that he isn't back because he missed Berk. What was really odd was how Hiccup was acting when I first saw him at the docks. He didn't seem shy or awkward at all; instead, he looked at home surrounded by Vikings. And he didn't even look out of place. He's tall enough to look down at most men now, and he's filled out about as much as his frame will let him. He's built sleekly and powerfully, and everyone is impressed.

Currently, Hiccup is in the Great Hall telling the village tales from his 'travels.' Spitelout pulled me aside and asked if we could meet just outside the Hall, and I knew what he wanted to speak about. It seems not everyone instantly forgot our missing men.

"What news, lass?"

"None. No trace of them at all. I searched everywhere, and didn't find as much as a leaf out of place."

Spitelout looked surprised, but whether by the information or the fact that _I_ couldn't find anything I don't know.

"Aye…that's not good. You don't suppose they could have fallen in the water?"

"Well…if they did, they didn't swim out…" I said somewhat grimly.

Spitelout shook his head absently and turned to go back inside. He stopped when he noticed that I wasn't coming.

"What, you don't want to hear any of this? There's bound to be a few miracles involved if Hiccup's back!" He said with a laugh.

"No… I don't think I do…" I said in a somewhat melancholy fashion.

"Aww, don't let it get to you."

That caught me by surprise. Surely, he can't know…

"Let what get to me?"

"Anything. Those men will be back soon enough, I'll bet. Perhaps they just didn't want to be found. Now come on, everyone should be in here; it's a celebration."

I relented and walked inside. Instead of trying to find a place to sit among Hiccup's seated audience, I kept a wide base and stuck to the shadows. From where I ended up, I could hear everything and see Hiccup, Stoic, and a few other important people.

It appears that I walked in right as Hiccup was finished with one story because someone in the crowd called out a question.

"Now, lad, ye ain't a boy any more. Where have you been that's had the best women?!" Apparently, we were already passing out mead because this man nearly fell over himself despite sitting down. Some of the men laughed at the question, and laughed harder when the women just rolled their eyes.

"What, you think I would give away my biggest secret?! Ha… well, let's just say that the Bogs were _very_ hospitable on my return here!" Hiccup mocked.

That answer caught several people off guard—some even spit out their mead. Gobber laughed so hard that he fell backwards off of his seat next to where Hiccup stood, and in the process dumped a full tankard of mead on himself.

Ugh. Whoever proclaimed that drinking and celebrations should go hand in hand is a spawn of Loki. These people are making fools out of themselves, and I can only imagine what is going through Hiccup's head right now. Does he scan the room and see the people he wants dead just laughing at his stories? Does he mock how unaware they are in his head? That's something that I feel like I would do if I were as mad as Hiccup… 'Oh, look, there's so-and-so who just pissed himself! I'm really doing him a favor by murdering him!'

"Now, come on Vic, we've got women and children here!" Stoic half-chastised while fighting down a laugh.

Oh Gods, Stoic must be on Hiccup's list! He's probably one of the two tied for the top spot! Is Hiccup really planning on killing his own father? And who is the other spot? Gobber? He _is_ the person Hiccup spent the most time with, so I suppose that could be true. Or could it be Snotlout? Could _I_ be up there? Hiccup was very precise when he called me the twenty-ninth on his list, but could that have been a ruse?

"Well, I see you standing there with at least three blades on you now. What sort of fights have you gotten yourself into?" Someone from the crowd asked. Everyone seemed to like that idea, leaving no room for Hiccup to wiggle out if he wanted to.

"Well, two years ago I did get into a duel with a Roman General…" Hiccup said nonchalantly in order to get a rise from the crowd.

It worked. They practically begged him to tell more.

"Well, I was passing through a small town outside of Rome itself, and had just woken up after spending the night in a gorgeous country home. Apparently, it belonged to a Roman General, and when he came home, he wasn't pleased with what I was doing with his daughter…" Hiccup trailed off, with a mischievous grin on his face. A few of the mothers and women in the room made a face, but an uproar came from the men. 'Look how smug he looks too!' 'Looks like he had two sword duels that day!' and all sorts of other snippy comments had pretty much everyone in laughter; many were in tears.

"So he challenged me to a duel to the death, then and there! He tossed me a sword, and I had the fight of my life butt-ass naked after tiring myself out _all night_!" Hiccup laughed as he finished, and no one could gain control of the room for several minutes. Anyone who tried (Stoic and Spitelout both) succumbed to laughter at some joke or other; nearly everyone had a few good words to get it about this.

Eventually, the room settled down and Stoic took control again.

"Well, it seems there is only one thing left to do! I think we should have a feas-" Stoic started to announce before I cut him off.

"Not so fast, Stoic. I think Hiccup need to display his 'sword fighting' prowess. Gods, Snotlout, his _other_ 'sword fighting' prowess!" Snotlout snickered, so I had to call him out. He went beet red. "It seems to me that we have two heirs now…"

The crowd hushed, and Stoic's brow furled.

"Aye, you're right. Good catch, Astrid. Hiccup, you were presumed dead and Snotlout was given the title of heir. Although you are certainly not dead, we can't just take that away from Snotlout now. If you want your birthright back, you must challenge Snotlout to a duel…" Stoic stated, giving Hiccup the ability to simply nod to challenge Snotlout.

He went a step further.

"I only have one question: are we fighting here, or the arena?"

The crowd went nuts in a way that only Vikings anticipating a fight can. Hoots and hollers echoed throughout the Hall. Snotlout pulled his shoulders back and walked up to Hiccup as manly as possible so that they could shake hands and seal their duel. Hiccup stood up straight and made sure to make a show of looking down at Snotlout while shaking hands with him.

It wasn't even breakfast yet, and already we were about to have a duel between two heirs for Berk's future. This day is _not_ going to end well, I just know it.

Everyone flocked to the arena; there wasn't a single villager who wasn't there, save for Griff and Svimmon. Aside from the Chief's Chair and the spots next to it (for Gobber and Spitelout), one couldn't find room to breathe in the crowd. Fortunately, as Berk's Main Shield Maiden I was tasked with going into the arena to officially start the fight. I escorted both Hiccup and Snotlout to the gate, and walked with them into the arena while telling them the official rules.

"This is a simulated-death battle. Do _not_ kill your opponent. The only way to win is the pull back on what would be a killing blow, or have the other admit defeat. Small, nonlethal wounds _are_ allowed. No outside help, and no other kinds of cheating. Am I clear?"

They both nodded; Hiccup seemed deep in thought, and Snotlout was just trying to look tough.

I walked with them into the arena, and watched as they each picked out their weapons. Snotlout went first, and he went for a mace off of the weapons rack first. He strapped a sword to his back, and then took an extra dagger. Once armed, he returned next to me.

I looked at Hiccup to let him know it was his turn, but he didn't walk to the weapons rack. He took a few steps forward until he was out of arm's length, then removed the fir cloak that he had been wearing. Underneath was his black armor (to which the crowd 'oooed' and 'awwed') which I just began to notice how 'slim-fit' it was designed. It nearly perfectly molded to Hiccup, and almost looked like a second skin. Although Hiccup didn't remove his pants, I would bet that his lower half is similarly armored (save his fake leg).

"Oooh, big deal. He was hiding his armor. That stuff looks flimsy anyways; get on with it!" Snotlout called out with irritation in his voice.

"Alright then, I'm ready!" Hiccup called out, without ever picking up a weapon.

"What?" Just about everyone called out. Hiccup only smiled innocently, and Snotlout didn't question an obvious advantage. He and Hiccup lined up opposite each other, and I remembered that I still have a fight to set off.

If the crowd wasn't watching intently before, now they really were. Stoic himself was on the edge of his seat, with his hand rubbing his chin as he carefully eyed the scene before him.

"Alright, I'm going to back away. On my mark, the fight will commence."

I took a few steps back, then raised my hand in the air. Both men's muscles tightened, and when I dropped my hand, they charged each other.

Snotlout charged faster, and Hiccup decided to wait back for him. With Hiccup still unarmed, Snotlout went for a damaging blow to Hiccup's unprotected temple, but Hiccup swiftly ducked under the blow. With Snotlout's strength focused on stopping the back-swing from his missed mace blow, Hiccup popped back up and applied his momentum into an uppercut blow to Snotlout's gut. Snotlout doubled over with a loud grunt, and as Hiccup came back down from his uppercut-jump, he brought his elbow down on the back of Snotlout's head.

Snotlout was knocked straight to the ground face first, and Hiccup flicked Snotlout's mace up to himself with his feet. He then showed the mace to the crowd and flung it at the weapons rack, lodging the spikes into the wooden panel.

Snotlout wasn't done yet, though. He picked himself up off the ground and drew his sword as he and Hiccup reestablished their fighting stances. Hiccup reached into one of the pouches built into his armor along his waist, and his hands reemerged holding two gauntlets. They looked like normal gloves, and were half-made of the same black material—Toothless scales by Hiccup's admission—as his armor. But the other half was made of a shiny metal that I didn't immediately recognize and something tells me Hiccup isn't just putting on an ordinary pair of gloves for a sword fight.

Hiccup carefully and deliberately put his gloves on, then adopted what looked like a strange hand-to-hand combat defensive stance. He held one hand out towards Snotlout, and another behind his head but with the elbow bent back towards Snotlout. He gestured for Snotlout to attack, and Snotlout did, but not _as_ hastily this time. Snotlout was more cautious this time, if only a little.

Once in range, Snotlout swung in a downward diagonal, and instead of ducking this time Hiccup backed up a step and deflected the blow with his gauntlet. Snotlout recovered better this time, and swung again, this time horizontally. Hiccup jumped back a step and threw his face forward, allowing his hip to move back and narrowly avoid Snot's sword. The crowd gasped as they watched the tip of Snotlout's sword clip Hiccup's stomach but fail to make a cut in his armor.

Snotlout wasn't deterred. Those first two swing were set-ups; the next blow was his goal the whole time. With Hiccup out of balance, he wouldn't be able to dodge a completely downward power-blow. Snotlout stepped into it with one foot and brought his sword down hard, and the crowd gasped even harder when they realized that Hiccup couldn't dodge.

But apparently Hiccup wasn't planning on dodging, nor did he need to. He reached up with his right arm and caught the blade with his gauntlet, then squeezed to get a firm grasp on the sword. Snotlout's eyes went wide and his surprise froze him in place as Hiccup launched an uppercut with his left hand that broke the sword in half: Snotlout held a useless stub and Hiccup held half of the blade in his hand.

The crowd was shockingly silent, and even I almost didn't breathe. Hiccup flung the sword piece backwards and nailed the weapon rack without looking. When I looked closely, I could see deep groves in the edge of the blade where Hiccup's fingers had bent the metal, leaving a handprint of sorts.

Snotlout still hadn't recovered from his surprise, and Hiccup took advantage of his stupor. He brought his foot up and connected with Snotlout's stomach, sending him flying onto his back. Hiccup kicked him so hard that the half-sword fell out of his hand and to the ground, so Hiccup picked it up by the handle. Despite having the wind knocked out of him, Snotlout recovered enough of his battle instincts to know that he was royally boned unless he thought of something and fast. As Hiccup walked towards him, Snotlout tried throwing his last blade—the dagger—but was unable to put any serious force into the throw. Hiccup snatched the blade out of the air with his free hand before it hit him in the face, and threw the blade back at Snotlout. I flinched, having been on the receiving end of Hiccup's throwing blade skills recently, but the blade impaled the ground between Snotlout's legs. It missed his balls by about half an inch, but Snotlout squealed like a girl regardless.

Hiccup had reached Snotlout now, and slammed the broken sword into the ground next to Snotlout's head to proclaim his victory. The crowd went wild, and Hiccup offered Snotlout a hand up. Snotlout begrudgingly took his hand, and once Snotlout was on his feet, Hiccup whispered something to him. I didn't make it over to them before Hiccup stopped whispering, so I'll add that to the list of things I ought to roast Hiccup over a fire to find out. What was interesting was the look on Snotlout's face: it changed from sour to somewhat surprised then quietly pleased as Hiccup whispered in his ear. Whatever Hiccup said, it cheered Snotlout up.

Stoic tried for ages to get the roar of the crowd to die down, and when he was finally successful the smile on his face looked like it might spill over and pour onto the ground. I snuck my way in between Hiccup and Snotlout because it was my job to ensure they won't pick a fight and so that I can remain close to Hiccup. I don't know what Stoic is about to say, but I have a feeling that it could jog some memories for Hiccup. And the last time that happened, I got a knife in the stomach.

"I know what you're all going to say… 'Stoic, Hiccup can fight! Who did he inherit _that_ from?!'" The crowd laughed, and Stoic waved them off. "But anyways, today is a new high for Berk. We've not had a raid in _years_ , we just proved that we're the best tribe around not two months ago (and we've got the Shield Maiden to prove it!), and now my son has returned home a hero and also a force to be reckoned with! The only thing that's more worthy of a feast would be a meeting with the Gods themselves!"

The crowd went absolutely wild. If there's one thing Vikings enjoy more than food, fighting, or mead, it's a feast (which usually includes food, fighting, _and_ mead).

For the rest of the day, Hiccup was surrounded by Vikings galore and appeared to thrive with the attention. He seemed to be showing everyone that he was much more Vikingly than anyone had ever thought possible for him. Drinking contests, heckling the barmaids, even swearing contests; nothing seemed to faze him…. Which worried me. I made sure to only drink enough mead to not seem suspicious; whenever I get my opportunity, I don't want to waste my chance to interrogate drunk Hiccup by being drunk myself.

It was dark when Hiccup finally left the feast. Many Vikings were already passed out, and Hiccup didn't look _that_ drunk despite having feasted _all day_. He seemed to scan the room for something, then once he found it he announced that he was going to go talk to an old friend. Eventually, he pried himself away from his followers and headed up the hill to the Chief's house. Stoic had already tended an offer for Hiccup to stay in his old room, so I wondered if he might be going to bed before Stoic even left the Hall. I waited in the shadows behind the Chief's house, and surely enough Hiccup came out the back door a few minutes later. He climbed onto the roof of the house and watched out for something.

I decided to shift around until I could see both Hiccup and see down the main lane of the village in case Hiccup was waiting for someone to meet him. After about ten minutes, the door to the Great Hall opened and Stoic came stumbling down the lane with a few Vikings. Although the other Vikings were absolutely hammered, Stoic was like me and didn't drink excessively tonight. Maybe something felt off, or maybe he didn't want a hangover, but for whatever reason Stoic decided to keep his wits about him tonight instead of drinking them away. Hiccup scrambled down from the house and signaled towards the woods, and as he did his Nadder emerged from the tree line. Quickly and quietly, the Nadder stuck its head into the back door and let out a barrage of fire inside the house that no one approaching the house could see.

With that done, Hiccup sent the Nadder away and disappeared into the shadows until he reappeared right next to me. I nearly jumped a foot, but Hiccup approached me from behind and put a hand over my mouth to stop me from squealing.

"I noticed that you think you're stealthy. You're not." He whispered, while keeping his eyes glued to Stoic.

He released me, and we both just watched the lane together.

"What are you doing?!" I whispered urgently, but Hiccup seemed to ignore me. By now, Stoic was nearly to his front door, and smoke had started to escape from the roof.

"What the—FIRE!" Stoic yelled as he burst down the door. We lost sight of him, and I could only pray that Hiccup hadn't set a trap for Stoic in that house.

"I told you that I'm going to tear this village apart. I've decided that it is easier to do that when I'm dead." He whispered, never looking away from the scene in front of him.

The fire had now spread to engulf the house, but that didn't muffle and extremely loud and off-putting scream of rage that suddenly erupted from Stoic.

"He must have found my 'body.'"

Those who hadn't wasted themselves started to gather around, and eventually Snotlout came out of the woods behind Stoic's hall and joined them. He didn't go unnoticed, as many villagers watched him emerge, but filed into the ranks silently.

"What was he doing out there?"

"I asked him to meet me in the woods around now. It's just going to sweeten the pot…"

Stoic leaped back out through the front door, and everyone cheered when they saw their Chief was okay. Their cheer died down in about two seconds once everyone saw the murderous look on Stoic's face.

"WHO WAS THE LAST ONE AT MY HALL!?" Stoic roared, causing the crowd to flinch. When no one answered, Stoic presented the bottom half of Snotlout's broken sword from the fight to the crowd.

"I FOUND _THIS_ EMBEDDED INTO THE HEART OF MY SON! **WHO WAS THE LAST ONE AT MY HALL!?** " Stoic thundered louder than any of Thor's lightning bolts.

No one in the crowd said a word, but many people's faces adopted a horrified expression. Slowly, a few heads turned towards Snotlout, before someone spoke up.

"Snotlout emerged from the woods behind your hall just after the fire started…"

 _Everyone_ turned to look at Snotlout and a ring formed around Snotlout as people got as far away from him as they could.

"Okay, I am so glad that I decided to screw this 'going in order' thing. This is going to be great!" Hiccup whispered with a terrifying amount of glee in his voice.

I, along with probably all of Berk, watched in horror as Stoic bounded four steps and grabbed Snotlout by his neck, squeezed, lifted him into the air, and then hurled him into the nearest wall all while releasing primal yell.

Author's Note: Yea, so I've decided to make this story longer! Lucky you, Mr. 'Reader that likes this story'! It sucks to be you, Mr. 'Reader who hates this story but reads it anyways'!

If you have any thoughts, reactions, comments, concerns, or even little easter eggs that you want to know if I can hide into the story, then leave a review.

Oh, all the names of non-essential characters (such as the missing men) are spoofs of characters from a show I watch. If anyone catches it, they get to make up the next random name I use.


	4. Divide and Conquer: Part 1

V for Viking

Author's Note: Okay, so I was out of town and didn't upload another chapter-per-day. That's rare for me anyways, so don't expect super speedy updates. But I have stumbled across ideas that I like for this story that should extend it a little more. I'll just say that they surround Hiccup's motivation and methods; one of them, turning the village against itself, has already been spoken of. Now it's time to put it into action, and meanwhile Astrid will desperately try to understand Hiccup's motives.

Chapter 4 – Astrid's POV

It took them ten minutes to realize that they were not going to be able to calm Stoic down, and instead directed him to the forest. More than likely, there would be enough lumber to replace the wall that Stoic broke when he threw Snotlout.

I am amazed that Snotlout somehow survived his injuries, and even more amazed that he clung onto life for the ten minutes that Stoic refused to allow anyone to help him. If I had to guess, I would say that he will never move his legs again, and that's being optimistic.

But I have more important things to do right now then guess about Snotlout's health. Hiccup tried to disappear into the forest, but I made sure to catch him by the ear before he could get out of reach.

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere…" I proclaimed loudly, thankful that the crowds had all left to accompany either Stoic or Snotlout.

"Ow ow ow" Hiccup cried out as I yanked on his ear.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Didn't any of that hurt to watch?!"

Hiccup refused to answer until I released his ear, and I eventually gave in.

"Hurt to watch? That was glorious! I'd watch it again if I could!" Hiccup retorted with a sickening amount of glee.

"What's wrong with you?! You came back to a hero's welcome and you still want revenge?"

Hiccup took a deep breath in while looking around almost frantically, then zeroed in on me as he exhaled.

"A hero's welcome? For me? Sorry, I thought that they were praising Thor that I wasn't the same screw-up that disappeared!"

"How can you even say that? Those people were eating out of your hand! Wasn't that what you wanted in the first place?!"

For a second, Hiccup's hands balled into fists and even jerked at me, but Hiccup fought to keep control of himself.

"To be accepted for something I'm not? That's the whole damn reason I left! Do you think for a second that Stoic wouldn't have any reservations if he knew what I've done?"

"That's not a fair argument, because you've been actively KILLING people you grew up with! Of course Stoic would want you back if you weren't _trying_ to sabotage the village!"

"That's where you're wrong. You don't know that; you CAN'T. You don't even know the things I've done. You don't know anything about me. Trust me, there's no possible way that I could have become one of…one of _them_!"

"All you've done since I found you is convince me that you would have been a greater Viking than _anyone_ could ask for! I can't understand why you're so abrasive to the idea that you are JUST LIKE US!"

Whereas before, Hiccup was able to keep his anger until control, now it spilled out like nothing I had seen before. Not even when he stabbed me did Hiccup look this unhinged. The speed and power with which his fist launched into my stomach knocked out any last trace of air I had in my lungs. Half a minute later, when I regained my senses, I realized I had fallen to my knees then lost balance and rolled onto my side.

When I finally lifted my head, Hiccup was gone. All in all, it took me four minutes to get back on my feet. I looked around for any trace of where Hiccup may have gone, but there wasn't as much as a trodden leaf around me.

"Way to go, Astrid. Really did a good job that time…" I berated myself aloud, before setting off into the village to see what has happened in my short absence.

Apparently, not much had happened. Stoic was in the forest, probably clearing out a location for a new village by now. Those Vikings who weren't completely hammered helped take Snotlout to Goethi's and hung around the door in a not-so-subtle attempt at guarding Snotlout from the Chief.

Most people had gone home to get some sleep (and prepare for a hectic day with a hangover) and I decided to do the same. If Hiccup didn't want me to find him, then I wouldn't, and there wasn't anything else I could do now.

The next morning, it didn't take long to realize that the day would be interesting. Just…not in a good way. Despite the fact that most of the village had huge hangovers, Stoic insisted on waking up everyone extremely early. I've never heard so many people cuss a storm at the same time like when Stoic beat on everyone's door to wake them up.

I decided that I was going to let Stoic's interactions play out, and instead headed to the forest to investigate what Stoic had done the night before. I took off in the general direction he did, and it didn't take me long before I found where he had been. There were several trees that had been chopped down, but they weren't neat piles of wood. There were numerous random cuts of varying depth all along the base of each fallen tree; no tree had been cut cleanly, either. If a tree had fallen over, it's because its base had been messily hacked away. What I saw weren't the markings of an angry man trying to vent: it was the evidence of a furious man losing himself in his rage.

"Odd… Hiccup hasn't lost control like _this_. At least not yet…" I mused aloud. Surely, Stoic and Hiccup must have some similarities, so why wouldn't they get angry the same way? Stoic's been angry at the world for years—well, at least at the dragons—and he's soured much like Hiccup seems to be. Maybe, if I figure out how Stoic gets angry, it will help me handle Hiccup.

I resolved to keep a keen eye on Stoic, and headed back towards the village. When I got there, the place was seemingly empty, but I could hear voices from the Great Hall.

Once I got inside, I found everyone huddled around a center. I couldn't see what was in that center, but I figured that with an event like this I'd never be able to push my way through. While everyone was distracted, I climbed up one of the support posts until I could perch myself in the rafters.

In the middle of the crowd was a wide gap, where only Stoic, Gobber, Spitelout, Goethi, and Snotlout stood. Well, Snotlout was laying on a makeshift stretcher, and Goethi was sitting, but the rest were standing.

"Alright, that looks like everyone. We can start…" Gobber announced as the crowd hushed eerily quickly. "Now, typically a Blood Feud like this would be judged by the Chief, but seeing as he's involved he can't do that. Typically, the Second-In-Command would take his spot. Spitelout, however, is the opposing side. So _I_ get to oversee this thing!" Gobber announced to lay a foundation for the arguments about to begin.

"OW!" Gobber yelped as Goethi smacked him with her staff. "Oh, right: Goethi is going to help me—OW!—right, Goethi is co-judge. Stoic, would you like to go first?"

The whole crowd waited without even breathing. It was so quiet that you could hear chainmail clinking…that is, if anyone was moving.

"Everyone saw _my son_ hand Snotlout his arse in that ring! He absolutely humiliated Snotlout _and_ reclaimed his proud heritage! It's OBVIOUS that Snotlout was a poor loser about something _yet again_ and murdered Hiccup in his sleep, all for revenge!"

"And what proof do you have that my son could have done this?" Spitelout challenged.

"Proof? What PROOF do I have? How about Snotlout's broken sword impaling Hiccup's body? A complete lack of an alibi?! The fact that your son has shown himself graceless when he loses for YEARS!?" Stoic's tone had begun to escalate, but he seemed to be keeping it in check.

Phase One: Angry and Sour, but Managing. Well, Stoic has that part down, but to be fair he's probably been there for years. Hiccup has also been in this phase since he returned to the island.

"That would sound almost kinda convincing, if it wasn't for the fact that Snotlout wasn't bitter!" Spitelout retorted, catching the crowd's interest.

"That's yak-shit! We all know that he doesn't handle being humiliated like a man should!"

"Well…" Spitelout interjected. "Why don't we ask him?"

Everyone's focus shifted to Snotlout, who had been propped up enough to see what was going on. He didn't seem to be able to move his arms or legs, and I haven't yet seen him move his head on his own.

"Well, Snotlout, what have ye to say?" Gobber asked.

Everyone went silent, and Snotlout hesitated before speaking. His words were labored and he struggled to breath at times, but otherwise sounded pretty good for a man who should be dead.

"I didn't hurt Hiccup. There was no reason for me to." Snotlout paused here to catch his breath, before resuming. "After our fight, sure. I kinda hated him. But he whispered to me something…"

Snotlout coughed here, and everyone waited with baited breath for him to continue.

"…He said…for me not to worry. He told me he…he didn't like it here on Berk, and that he was leaving again soon…permanently. He wanted to meet in the woods behind Stoic's hall to talk, but…he never showed."

"THAT'S ABSOLUTE BLASPHEMY!" Stoic hollered with the same rage that he had last night. Several people in the audience flinched, even. Almost everyone seemed to agree with Stoic, and the crowd started rumbling a little.

Before the crowd—or Stoic—could take any action, Goethi rapped her staff on the table, catching everyone's attention. She then wrote something on the ground, then looked to Gobber for translation.

"She says 'the boy's name is Ruth.' Well, that's weird—OUCH!—sorry, it says 'the boy's telling the truth.' Well, that's even weirder." Gobber flinched, expecting another smack from Goethi, but she simply nodded to confirm that is what she wrote.

"THERE IS NO WAY THAT THAT THOR-DAMNED MURDERER IS TELLING THE TRUTH! THAT BOY IS A LYING!" Stoic yelled while bringing his fist down on a table, breaking the wood in two.

The crowd was not all on his side, however. Goethi's words only served to tear the crowd down the middle, with half of the people stunned that Snotlout is innocent and another half convinced that Goethi must be wrong.

And in the background to the chatter the crowd was now making amongst itself was Stoic hollering more death threats then I even thought was possible.

Phase Two: Escalation. Furious Yelling, with the Chance of a Violent Outburst. I identified what appeared to be the second phase of Stoic's fury, and so far I've seen Hiccup go through both. At least twice he's yelled and struck me, and this also marks the second time I've seen Stoic like this. I would bet that Stoic's rampage in the woods last night could be his third phase, but I can't be sure yet.

"Alright, alright…" Gobber tried to calm the crowd down, but without any success whatsoever. It wasn't until beating a hammer against a metal shield on the wall that everyone shifted their focus to him. "Tha's better. NOW, we are going to have to take a vote on this matter, so we'll get the boxes out and let you vote secretly…"

"No." Stoic countered calmly. _Way_ too calmly for someone who was just yelling loud enough for Odin to hear.

"Now, Stoic, you aren't in charge of this…" Gobber started, obviously trying to keep Stoic calm.

"No, I _am_ in charge of this village, if not this trial. And I still have the power to decide _how_ we vote: everyone's vote is going to be recorded…" Stoic said somewhat quietly, but with murder in his voice. As the words sunk in, their meaning started to chill the bones of those that were watching: if Stoic lost the vote, then he would know the name of everyone who betrayed him.

Gobber tried to figure out a way around it, but Stoic had won. Gobber went to get some parchment, and drew a line down the middle. On one side, he wrote "guilty." On the other, "innocent."

"Alright, who's going to vote first?" Gobber asked the crowd. Immediately, about twenty people jumped at the opportunity of being the first to vote in Stoic's favor. After Gobber was able to get their names down, the votes started to come in more slowly as the villagers weighed their options. Once Stoic had a 40-0 vote advantage, someone else decided to step foot into the ring.

"Well, well, two very interesting choices. I can vote _not_ to piss off our rampaging leader, or I can vote to show my respect to the village elder. And a boy's life hangs in the balance all the while…" Mildew called out, with his normal smirk growing larger the whole time. "It seems to me that the village is scared to vote what they think. _I_ think that people these days just don't respect traditions like their supposed to. It used to be that heirs didn't spend six years away from home, Chiefs didn't abandon principle, and suspects didn't have their neck rung until after they were proved guilty. My, what deterioration has happened to our great tribe… Gobber, mark me down in the 'innocent' category!" Mildew almost reveled in the look that hijacked Stoic's face as he spoke. To make matters worse, Mildew had given the villagers the courage to vote how they wanted to, and a flood of votes started to pour into the 'innocent' category. More votes for innocence inspired other villagers to vote 'guilty,' and pretty soon everyone was chomping at the bit to vote. A few minor arguments and even scuffles started to erupt among close friends and family members. Even the twins, Ruff and Tuff, voted differently.

Once the voting died down, Gobber counted up the names.

"Loki's droopy balls… it's a dead-even tie. IS THERE ANYONE WHO HASN'T VOTED?" Gobber yelled over the crowd. For a moment, no one replied as everyone was shocked over the vote count.

"Do you have Hacknee on there? I haven't seen him yet!" Someone called out.

"Eh…no, he hasn't voted. Someone go fetch him!" Gobber called out. Some random Viking at the back sprinted out the door, and everyone was left to realize the situation we are left with. Hacknee was one of the people last night who instantly took Stoic side, and was even calling for Snotlout's head as he was being carted to Goethi's. Everyone knew that when given the choice, Hacknee was going to vote 'guilty.'

"Heh, that ol' bachelor probably just decided to sleep right through this! I bet he's going to be pissed at all this noise!" Gobber joked, earning a few laughs from the men at the front of the crowd who could hear him.

"Yea, they are _really_ not going to like what they find…" Someone whispered from behind me, and I almost fell out of my perch from surprise. I turned around to find Hiccup sitting on a rafter right behind me.

"What?! How did you get up here? What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, I've been waiting in here all night. There's no way I was going to sneak in the door this morning. And let's just say I bumped into Hacknee right after leaving you last night…"

My eyes went wide before I decided to slide back down the support beam I used to get up here. I stayed on the far side to avoid being detected, and I ran out the door after announcing that I would help with the search.

When I got to Hacknee's house, I was horrified. I found the man that came to find Hacknee impaled through the heart with a sword, just outside the doorway. Blood had pooled on the ground, and I didn't even think of stopping to check his pulse. Hiccup had made sure that he wouldn't continue breathing after this; I just don't know if he has an accomplice, or if one of his dragons can use a sword (as crazy as it sounds, it wouldn't be the weirdest thing yet).

Once I got inside, I became so sick to my stomach that I nearly threw up. There was blood EVERYWHERE: splattered on the walls, pooled in random spots on the floor, even on the ceiling. But worse than blood everywhere were the _body parts_ everywhere: here a foot, there an elbow, intestines hung like drapes, and two eyeballs skewered on a stick. Someone had absolutely slaughtered Hacknee into bits and pieces.

Phase Three: Vehement Rage. Mindless Urge to Slaughter. Almost Uncontrollable, but Only Lasts a Short Time.

It turns out that Hiccup and Stoic do get angry the same way. However, where Stoic attacked a man during Phase 2 and slaughtered some trees, Hiccup attack me during Phase 2 and then slaughtered a man.


	5. Divide and Conquer: Part 2

V for Viking

Chapter 5 – Astrid's POV

It hasn't even been a full day, and I can already see the effectiveness of Hiccup's plan. The vote on Snotlout—which ended in a dead-even tie—had already split the village down the middle before Hacknee's murder. Once it was discovered that a murderer was on the loose, everyone became suspicious. Normal disagreements mounted into loud arguments and personal beefs escalated into fists all throughout the day.

Everywhere I go, everyone is doing the same thing: whispering. No one feels secure anymore, not when their neighbor may have been the one to kill Hacknee. Nervousness has consumed the whole village, and to make matters worse, there is no one to mend fences between villagers. Normally, in anxious situations such as the one we are in, the village leadership is there to stop things from escalating too far. Now, however, our village leadership is having the largest feud of all, and the rest of the villagers are starting to take sides. I've already broken up two fights between Vikings with very different opinions on the 'Snotlout' incident.

I know what Hiccup wants to happen…what he's planning on happening. He's creating a fire to consume Berk; he's just placed the logs, and now he is gathering kindling. It won't be long before all that's needed is a spark.

As I was making rounds throughout the village, I heard a lot of commotion coming from some of the sheep pens. Ever since the dragons stopped attacking, we've been able to cautiously expand our sheep pen until we created individual pens for everyone. As I ran over to a small crowd that was forming, I realized that we were standing next to Spitelout's pen. The gate to the pen was open, and it looked like the hinge was smashed.

"What's going on here?!" I asked as I pushed my way through the crowd.

"Ah, good. Astrid, these good-for-nothing rascals sabotaged my pen and let my sheep escape!" Spitelout explained in a voice pointed towards three young kids standing in front of them. I recognized the kids as the sons some of the first men to vote for Stoic earlier, and I'd bet my axe that Spitelout recognizes them too.

"Is that true, boys?" I asked, much to Spitelout's dismay.

"Oh, sure, ask a bunch of rotten criminals for their story…"

" _Boys_ , what happened?" I asked over Spitelout's complaining.

"We were playing Hard Head over by those trees! I didn't even know that they sheep were loose until one ran by me and Spitelout yelled as loud as Stoic!" The largest boy—likely the group's leader—answered in a scared and believably honest manner. I took a quick glance at the boys as a whole and noticed decent-sized whelps on the side of their head; just the thing you would expect from playing a game about whacking someone in the head with a stick.

"Oh, yes, _sure_ , you were hitting each other with sticks. Are you sure you didn't _whack my gate hinge_ while you were at it to make your daddies proud?!" Spitelout asked more angrily than before.

"Spitelout, hush. I don't think that they did it…"

"WHAT!? You _can't_ be serious, you TOO, Astrid!?" Spitelout burst out in a mix of surprise and outrage.

"Spitelout, why don't you focus on actually _catching_ your sheep before we point fingers?" As much as Spitelout was angry, he was still cognitive enough to remember that yes, he did need those sheep. That didn't stop him from glaring daggers at the kids before turning to leave, grumbling all the way.

"Now, if I were you three, I would make myself scarce…" I said slightly threatening, but with a playful hint in my voice that the three boys didn't pick up on as they scampered away.

"Now, what was Hiccup up to here?" I asked myself as I bent down to inspect the gate hinge. It looked like it had been smashed inwards instead of sliced or chopped, so I suspect that Hiccup punched it with his gauntlets. But why? It would have been easier to use a weapon, not to mention the fact that most everyone uses a sword or axe, thereby making more people suspects if he used one of those. But no, he punched it…almost as if he was in a rush.

But where would he be going? And what did pissing Spitelout off at three boys have to do with his plans? Sure, Bard, Blad, and Tox's kids messing with Spitelout might up tensions a little, but not significantly. It's not going to start a blood feud or anything.

"Hell, if he wants to start a fight, it would be easiest to pit Tox and Sirge against each other. They've hated each other for years, and they're already on different sides…" I mused aloud, before realizing what I had just said. My eyes went wide as I realized what Hiccup's plan was: Stoic is down at the docks, Spitelout is now chasing sheep, and I'm standing here at this pen. Tox and Sirge were part of a small team that went to split wood from where Stoic hacked away after Hiccup's 'death.' Hiccup wanted everyone who would stop a fight away from those men so that he could turn them on each other!  
I started sprinting for the forest, and as I did so other parts of Hiccup's scheme made sense. Sirge was a great friend of Spitelout, and while Tox wasn't. With Spitelout pissed at Tox's kid, there's no chance that Spitelout would view anything that might happen in a fair light.

When I finally got to the forest, Tox was being restrained by three men while a fourth was knelt down beside Sirge. Sirge was face-down in the ground, and was surrounded by a sickening pool of blood that had soaked into the ground.

"WHAT HAPPENED HERE!?" I demanded as soon as I arrived, not even catching my breath after sprinting with my axe.

"It's Sirge. He's dead, that much is certain." The man who was kneeling by Sirge said while standing up.

"The bastard asked for it!" Tox shouted while unsuccessfully struggling against his captors.

"Save it, Tox! Everyone knows you've hated each other for years!" A man holding Sirge scolded.

"What happened, Tox?" I asked, much to the surprise of the men around me. Heck, even Tox seemed surprised that I was giving him the time of day given the circumstances, but he didn't waste his chance.

"Everyone spread out to find any good, non-mutilated pieces of wood left. I lost sight of everyone, then suddenly…BAM! I'm hit in the head by a flying mace, the same kind of weapon that Sirge _always_ keeps attached to his hip. Except when I got back up, I saw Sirge chopping a log… _without_ his mace on his belt!"

I picked up Tox's helmet off the ground, and found a good-sized dent that matches his story. I even looked over and saw a mace lying on the ground next to a tree, supposedly where Tox was hit. I could already see how Hiccup pulled this off: he must have stolen Sirge's mace and used it to start this fight.

"So what'd you do, attack him?"

"You better believe I gave that son of a bitch a piece of my mind! I threw my dagger into his back and when he turned around I put my axe dead into his chest!" Tox proclaimed with a surprising amount of pride. It was the kind of pride a man displays after successfully springing a trap, and I don't doubt that is how Tox feels: he thinks that he defeated his enemy despite not attacking first.

I rubbed my forehead before finally telling the men to take Tox to Stoic. Although I don't like the idea of Stoic and Spitelout butting heads over this, it would be worse to abandon all principle by covering this up. Not to mention the men around me that I would have to explain my reasoning to… 'Yea, well, this is what _he_ wants—I can't tell you who _he_ is. I'm not sure why, and I don't know why _he_ 's doing this, but we shouldn't give in' isn't exactly a great case.

I don't know exactly what has happened since I left Spitelout, but if I'm lucky then nothing else will have gone wrong.

It just doesn't look like I'm going to be lucky anytime soon.

A FEW HOURS LATER

Finally. It took forever to get to this stupid cliff, which left me with way too much time alone with my thoughts. All the worry in my head physically made me sick on the way here…and naturally my brain took that as an invitation to think up worst-case scenarios that have just enough merit to them to truly concern me. I mean, when my head starts with 'Hiccup wants to murder Berk,' it can come up with some scary shit. And that mutilated body earlier didn't help things.

I began climbing up through the incisions made in the cliff wall, just like the last time I was here. About half way up, the gap between the handholds increased significantly, and I was forced to use almost all of my reach. When I finally got a handhold, my fingers slipped on an oily substance and I started to freefall, only to be abruptly cut off from dying.

I looked up to find myself within the claws of a Changewing which had apparently been clinging to the wall next to me. It flew me to the top of the cave and set me down surprisingly gently; standing there expectantly was none other than Hiccup.

"Sorry; I put the fish oil in the keep out unwanted guests. And not sorry, because you are technically the only guest so far."

"Gee. Thanks, asshole."

"Oh, a bit of fire in you today, huh? What on Midgard could have brought _that_ about?" Hiccup mocked.

I had already begun answering before I realized that it was bait to rile me up.

"Well, for starters, I just watched half of my tribe call for an innocent man's head, only for Stoic to set him free simply to spite Spitelout! Do you have any idea how mad the village has gone!?" I replied angrily, but without moving towards him or moving much at all. On some level, my body remembered that Hiccup has proven that he shouldn't be threatened or trusted; however, my head still wants to both threaten and trust him.

"Of course I do. You think I would let something this important go to chance? I've got this mapped out. Tell me, who do you think the next target is?"

His question caught me far enough off guard that my anger was thrown off. It was dampened with surprise and confusion, then ignored entirely when I decided to think on the question.

"What, you think I'm just going to give you a target? Nice try, Hiccup."

Hiccup didn't reply, but instead calmly took a strip of parchment out of his back pocket, and held it so that I couldn't read what was on it.

"On here are two hints as to my next move. One is a place, and one is a name. Now, if you take your best guess as to the whom and where of my next move, I'll show you my hints."

I gave Hiccup an uncertain look, but he didn't change from his 'confident in a this-is-beneath-me' look.

Well, I guess now the next thing to do would be to frame Spitelout or push him over the edge. He would need him to tick off Stoic, and Hiccup seems to be a big fan of using his 'death' as a weapon. The last traces of Hiccup ever since Stoic's fire would be...

"The forge! That's the last place left with a connection to you!" I burst out, with Hiccup giving a slightly surprised look that all but confirmed my answer. "Oh gods, you're going to kill Gobber, aren't you?!"

If Hiccup wasn't surprised before, he certainly was now. However, his surprise seemed to fade into intrigued curiosity alarmingly quickly.

"Well, now, that's certainly an interesting angle. I can feel a true 'revenge' vibe there; you must think that my goal is to wipe out all who ever wronged me, am I right?"

"It's not like you've given any evidence to the contrary…"

"Well, think… _bigger_. My work here is going to be my masterpiece!" Hiccup replied with a strange mix of melancholy determination.

Before I could think of a response, Hiccup crumpled up the paper strip and tossed it to me. It was an impressive throw until it dropped to the ground four feet short of where I stood.

"Oh come on. Can't I look cool for even a few seconds?" Hiccup asked no one in particular.

I walked forward and picked up the note, then uncrumpled it to reveal two words.

"The arena? STOIC?! Are you—but—why—isn't he one of the last ones on the list?" Many questions fought to exit my mouth, but that one won out for some reason.

"List? Did you really believe all that?" Before I had a chance to even consider the possibility of answering, he continued. "I guess I sold it too well. Come on, a vindictive man with crumbling motive and a quick temper who flew back to Berk to assassinate a select few? Surely some part of that hasn't matched up with what you've seen…

"Truth is…my intentions are far less…remedial than that. Come on, I've got something to show you…" He motioned for me to follow him into the cave, and the dark walk gave me some time to start processing what he just said.

Well, yea, things haven't added up. His motives have been somewhat spotchy, and he _did_ abandon his list idea awfully quickly. But this whole scenario is just so foreign that it's hard to tell what could be genuine.

We made it back to the lava pit, and I looked around. Nothing had changed since the last time I was here.

"This is it? I've already seen all this!"

"Oh that's cute. You thought that this was all. I set this up as a decoy should anyone ever stumble across my hiding place…I'd never stay in heat like this." He said before whistling _right_ in my ear. My ears rung so loudly that I didn't notice the dragon behind me before it lifted up both of us and flew us to a hidden recess in the wall farther up. From any angle on the ground, the second cave that opened up here would be hidden, and this cave was significantly shorter than the last cave: it was only 40 feet wide before opening back to the outside.

"This… _this_ is where I work it all out…" He announced before motioning me to look around. "Don't bother trying to find any names or figure out my plans; the names are all numbers and everything is written in a language that no one speaks anymore. Except me, of course, but only when I need to argue with myself…" He trailed off his joke at the end when he realized that I was too enamored with looking around.

There were two more boards, both with extensive amount of writings and patches of parchment suspended by pins and strings. The chain of events that this thing detailed out must have been incredible, because despite the fact I couldn't read the language, I could feel from all of the little extra pockets and alternated strings that he had planned this out well. The only major difference between the boards was that one had materials around it like it was still being actively used, and the other was pushed aside.

"What's wrong with that board?"

"Oh, uh…that's the old plan. I had to scrap it to account from some…unexpected developments…"

Huh. So maybe he doesn't have his kill list perfectly worked out. I wonder what went wrong with it.

"Like what, exactly?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yea. I had to completely remove you from the equation ever since you found me. If it makes you feel better, I was planning on baiting you and your followers out to the cliffs before taking you out myself."

"…..WHAT?"

"Yea, in the original plan I assumed that you would have a strong opinion and people would gravitate behind you. I was going to use you to toy with Snotlout at some point…"

"Okay, okay, forget I asked." I mumbled while trying to shake the thought from my head. "What is your plan for me now?"

"Oh, you think I would just tell you that? Telling you would eliminate your free will and also guarantee that you would _not_ do it."

I shrugged off what he said, mainly because it was a longshot that I could trick him into telling me in the first place. I wanted to know solely so I would know what not to do, after all.

As I glanced at the board, I began to take note of the number of individuals that Hiccup had accounted for (made easy by the numbering system). The count was far over his previous list.

"Hiccup…how many names are _on_ here?" I asked nervously, almost knowing the answer.

"Well, all of Berk minus one Shield Maiden…"

My eyes went wide as my head jerked back to the board, and I frantically started to scan over it before backing away. I was going to say something before I noticed a stack of scrolls over in the corner. They weren't any scrolls, however; they each had a fine leather container that are used only for maps. My thoughts shifted back to one of those 'worst scenarios' I thought up on my walk over, and as soon as it did I counted the number of maps. In the scenario, Hiccup was trying to kill more than just Berk, and it seemed an eerie coincidence that the number of maps match the number of Viking Tribes left after the war.

"Hiccup, earlier, you said Berk would be your masterpiece…" I brought up the analogy used early because I couldn't find any other grasp on the thoughts in my head. "But a masterpiece is supposed to be the best work out of a collection. Is that…accurate?"

Hiccup took a deep breath and stood up straighter before giving an answer.

"I suppose so, yes."

Each of those four words made my stomach tie even tighter knots, but I couldn't just stop now. I have to know, even if it kills me. Not knowing with _definitely_ kill me.

"If-if this collection had a name, what would it be? What would you title your 'collection' of works?" I asked extremely nervously. Hiccup waited a few moments, looking off into the distance as if thinking of a clever and grand answer. Every second, though painfully slow, tightened the sickened feeling in my gut. I knew that the longer Hiccup took to answer, the more direct and intentional the answer would be. And I absolutely don't want to imagine how bad it could be.

Turns out, I didn't have to. His answer was worse than what I could have imagined.

"Well, I supposed I'd call it ' _The Abolition of Vikingdom!_ '"


	6. Astrid decides to fight back (finally)

V for Viking

Author's Note: Hey, its been a while, huh? I know people make excuses but I just plain and simple haven't felt like writing or reading in a while, and have done other things with my free time. But I'm back, and I am planning on wrapping up this story (I say that but its a few chapters away). So enjoy this and, you know, don't kill me for making it take so long.

I reread the whole story to make sure I didn't forget any plot points, but if you catch something or want clarification hmu. As of now, you shouldn't trust most of what Hiccup says, but that's been true since the beginning.

Chapter 6 – Astrid's POV

Abolition: The act of formally putting an end to a system, practice, or institution. Example: _Hiccup's returned to Berk determined to see the abolition of Vikings_.

That definition was not lost on me. Hiccup's words had stunned me, but something inside of me stirred at his intentions. _That's it. He is officially a threat_. I hurled one of the two daggers I had on me at his head with the intention of distracting him, and to that effect it worked perfectly. Hiccup leaned backwards until his body was parallel to the ground before pulling himself back up in an impressive display of agility. Unfortunately for him, that only helped me; by the time he was back up, I had hit him on the side of the head and place my second blade to his neck.

Hiccup stumbled down to one knee, and kept his eyes focused on the ground once he realized he was caught.

"Don't you dare try anything, or I'll kill you!" I shouted at him, almost embarrassed at the nervousness in my voice. As if to mock me, Hiccup's reply was both calm and quiet, making my shout seem all the more out of place.

"You're not going to kill me…" He responded confidently, as if he knew something that I didn't. In fact, it was that quality of his demeanor that pissed me off; this whole time, he's been toying with me and telling me things just for his own amusement, and I'm sick of it. I'm done with receiving inside jokes that I can't understand and being forced to watch as he tried to tear my home apart.

"And why _not_?!" I yelled back angrily.

He bit his tongue, which only served to increase my frustration. Without thinking, I kicked Hiccup in the stomach, knocking him to his back, and stabbed my dagger into his biceps while he was still recovering (he had apparently not thought wearing his armor important around me; his mistake). Hiccup flinched at the wound, but didn't cry out and really almost seemed more annoyed than injured; he acted like he'd had worse before.

"No, _that's_ not how this is gonna work from now on! You are going to tell me EVERYTHING! WHY WOULDN'T I KILL YOU?!"

Hiccup held the wound in his arm with his hand in an attempt to slow the bleeding, and slowly got back up onto one knee. He still refused to look up at me.

"I…I don't know why. I thought I had all of you figured out. I _did_ have all of you figured out. But you're…different now, Astrid. You were supposed to be Stoic's greatest opposition—someone who took an active role in preserving the Tribe—and instead you haven't done anything. You know enough to stop me, and you haven't…and I don't have a clue _why_. But it's the same reason that you won't kill me; of that, I am confident."

"What do you mean?"

"Why haven't you killed me yet? You _know_ why I'm here, you _know_ that you're justified in every way. Yet you let every second go by with me still drawing breath. So you tell me: why haven't you done anything?"

My mind started to race, and I quickly realized that Hiccup had a very valid and scary point. I don't know _why_ I haven't done anything. It really isn't like me to hesitate about anything, but something about this whole scenario has made me uneasy. In a moment of panic, I quickly forced a subject change.

"You don't get to ask questions! Th-that's my job here! I want you to tell me everything! Why are you doing this?! What else have you done!? What are you _planning_ on doing?!"

Hiccup sighed, before standing up despite the blade against his neck. Although I still had a dagger to him, it didn't feel like I was in control of the situation anymore. Hiccup looked me in the eyes before taking a deep breath, then waiting for what felt like forever before finally giving in.

"You know what I am planning. You've known for a while. I'm here to see Berk destroy itself. I'm here because this godsforsaken island holds the last trace of Vikingdom, and I need to purge it. I'm here because Viking idealism has destroyed every part of my life, my heart, and my soul, and all that's left for me is to make sure that this _disease_ never spreads again!"

He looked me dead in the eyes, silently challenging me. The knife I held against his neck no longer felt as if it was a threat or even a weapon anymore, and I lowered it back to my side.

This was no longer a battle of weapons, of steel, of might. This was a battle of ideals; of a way of life and its opposite; this was Hiccup tormented by and hell-bent to destroy everything which I had grown up believing, supporting, and fighting for.

This was no longer a battle that could be won by killing. That was Hiccup's entire point; killing is part of the Viking way, and that's why the Viking way should be abolished. No, to win this battle, Hiccup had to be confronted with a truth that he was not prepared to deal with. He needed to see with his own eyes that, at our core, we aren't evil. We aren't shallow beings with one fallback (slaughter). I have to show Hiccup that he can't corrupt us against ourselves because we are better than that. _That_ is how I beat Hiccup.

I have to bring peace where Hiccup expects war.

I have to bring the village together, without telling them who is really behind their feud. Hiccup needs to see that Vikings have the capability for compassion and that we won't tear each other to shreds.

I don't know how long Hiccup and I locked eyes, but once I made up my mind there was no going back.

"You're wrong. You want to think you can turn us against each other because you think that justifies our deaths. Maybe you've even seen other tribes crumble. But we won't. I won't allow it." I proclaimed defiantly.

"Then I guess its game on, then. I'll have a dragon drop you back off down below, and then it's all bets off."

"Not quite. You have to play fair. You can't kill me just because I know what you're trying to do, and I won't tell anyone that you're pulling strings."

Hiccup nodded in agreement, then pointed to the edge of the cave, where a Nadder was ready to take me back to the Cove. As I turned to walk towards it, I noticed Hiccup reach for a cloth to cover his wound. I smirked at the thought of getting back for my own knife wound not a few days ago.

"One question, Astrid." Hiccup called out as I was about to hop onto the dragon. "You're trying to prove that you're worth not killing; what happens if you're wrong?"

I didn't look back. I couldn't afford to. Not now. I couldn't let him know how much that question sent a chill down my spine, or how uncertain that I was in my ability to stop the village from its feud.

I can't afford to give up an advantage, because I can't afford to lose now. It's Astrid Vs Hiccup, and the winner takes the lives of Berk in their hands.

ONE HOUR LATER

One hour to think. Sixty minutes. Three thousand, six hundred seconds. Countless thoughts per second. And I needed all of them and more. I can't afford to lose any time. Not with what's at stake. I had to analyze everything that Hiccup had said, done, and intended.

It's frustrating, because he's been jerking me in circles with trivial matters when I could have been focusing on the bigger picture since he came back. I was so focused on whether or not he wanted to kill me that I failed to pick up any vital clues. I had to waste precious time sorting what I think were misdirects, lies, and truth. I can't be 100% certain of anything…but I think I have a lot of it sorted out.

The most important thing is that I know that he wants to villagers to hate one another as much as he hates them…us. That means, if he's smart, he'll continue to pour salt on the wound of the 'Snotlout' issue.

He even told me about his next move. _Stoick. The Arena_. The cocky bastard probably figures that I won't take him literally, and then he'll find some perverse pleasure in doing exactly what he told me he was going to do. It's an awfully arrogant thing to do, but he doesn't realize how arrogant he is.

And that gives me an edge.

As I made it back to the village (it took me only an hour because I sprint the whole duration), I made certain to look at for any gatherings. Even a small one could contain is quarrel, and I needed to pacify or clear up anything minor to keep the powder-keg from igniting.

It didn't take long for me to find anything. I looked down an alley to see a ring of people watching a fight, which is more of an invitation than I need. I ran over and took a quick survey of the scene: Ruffnut and Tuffnut were going at it, but not like usual. This had no reservations, unlike their normal childhood brawls; it also had knives and blood drawn, thought nothing major yet. The crowd formed a ring which had a split down the middle, which hinted at this fight being more than an entertaining scrap.

"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE!?" I yelled as I pushed my way through the crowd into the middle of the ring, causing both Ruff and Tuff to pause and look up. They both scrambled to their feet and immediately began explaining why they were right and their sibling was wrong. It didn't take my long to figure out what had caused the fight; Tuffnut was a friend of Snotlout's and supported the Jorgensons, while Ruffnut found Snotlout a pain and sided with Stoick. No doubt the crowd has halved between people supporting the Haddocks and Jorgensons, making it likely that this fight would have ended in two crowds fighting.

"Come on, Astrid! Tell him that he needs to go stick his head up a yak's ass!" Ruffnut pleaded. She clearly assumed that since Astrid was sworn to protect the village that meant that she would take Stoick's side.

I gestured for both of them to calm down before I finally gave my verdict, and the crowd went still.

"Ruff, there's nothing wrong with Tuffnut defending his friend's honor. It's admirable, actually…" I trailed off to the sound of Tuffnut and his crowd erupting, with the crowd taunting Ruffnut's crowd and Tuffnut making rude finger-gestures to Ruffnut. "…but there is shame and treachery in causing trouble in an already tumultuous time." I finished sternly, causing the crowd to die back down.

"Now all of you just need to walk away before I memorize your names and sign you up to wake Stoick up in the morning!" I threatened the crowd half-heartedly. It worked because they dispersed in the blink of an eye.

Now alone, I took a deep breath and steeled myself for whatever challenge came next. I am, after all, one broken-up fight closer to beating Hiccup.

Over the next two days, the villagers remarked that it seemed like I was everywhere. Quarrel at the docks? I made it in time to humiliate the offenders in front of the crowd they raised. A heated debate in the Great Hall? I ended it with arguments that neither side could come back from. Little kids whose fathers sent them to throw rocks at the Jorgenson's yaks? Got to find out for themselves how many push-ups someone can do before passing out.

Everywhere I went, I noticed a trend. The people getting into quarrels, fights, and arguments were always the same kind of people: young (under 35), meatheads, and not in control. None of the heads of any of the families of Berk had come to blows—or even spoken with—members of opposing families. Family leadership tended to be comprised of older _or_ wiser Vikings, and while their views very much so influenced the people getting into fights, they themselves were reserved. Make no mistake, they were preparing for blows to come and tensions between families are at an all-time high, they just are smart enough to keep to themselves.

The only families actively causing trouble are the two in the center of this problem: the Haddocks and the Jorgensons. All that is left of the Haddocks is Stoick, so he would be at a distinct disadvantage in a feud—or war—if he weren't such a powerful chief. However, in light of the Haddock clan's decline, the Jorgensons are the clear most powerful family on Berk, and they have many branches to their tree. Their tree also ties in to many other family trees, meaning that they have strong ties with most clans on Berk. Their family connections and influence are the only reason that the village seems so perfectly split.

And now Spitelout Jorgenson has asked me to sit down with his family for a discussion. He assured me that no harm would come no matter what I may say, but that's not comforting.

I knocked on the door to the Jorgenson hall, and it took only a few seconds for it to open.

"Ah, Astrid! We're glad you came! Please, come inside and have a seat. Would you like any ale?" Spitelout greeted enthusiastically, though I was still wary. I had to make sure no eyes spotted me walking into Spitelout's home, lest I make Stoick suspicious.

"No, thank you though. These last few days have put me on edge and I don't feel like getting drunk is a smart idea right now…" I responded honestly enough.

As I stepped inside and took a seat, I noticed that there were faces other than the Jorgensons there. I spotted a few heads of different Jorgenson households, but I also spotted others. Mane Thornston, who co-headed the Thornston clan with his brother Meda, was seated but Meda was conspicuously absent. There were also some lesser members of the Ingermans, but I suspected the real leadership of the Ingermans supported Stoick. Thankfully, I spotted no Hoffersons here, which means my family is either with the chief or undeclared.

"Let's skip the formalities, since I know you don't have the patience for them either. Astrid, Stoick is tearing this island apart. He's…unhinged, and we don't think he is fit for leadership. Despite that, though, many villagers aren't willing to oppose him either out of duty or fear, and we don't want to start a war. We think that we may have a solution, though." Spitelout said. It seemed obvious to me that this speech had been prepared beforehand by the members of the room, as no one deviated from looking at me while Spitelout spoke.

I didn't like where this was going already.

"And…what solution would _that_ be?" I asked as politely (and innocently) as I could.

"We understand that this couldn't be easy for you, but if you publically supported us, we think that the village would unite against Stoick. Obviously, that isn't ideal, but we wouldn't have pulled you here to ask this of you if we weren't out of options."

"Th-that's not something I can do, Spitelout! You should know better; I'm a Shieldmaiden! I'm sworn to serve the chief, not usurp him!" I protested loudly, hoping that Spitelout would accept that I wanted to decline out of honor and not because I didn't agree with him.

"I know that, Astrid. I know that as a Shieldmaiden, you are dedicated to doing whatever is best for Berk. I know that you've prepared yourself for any possible situation that you would need to protect us from, but this isn't an easy choice of duty. You don't serve him, Astrid; you serve the people of this village, right? If everyone in the village wanted Stoick gone, would you raise your axe against the _entire_ village just out of duty to one man?" Spitelout countered, very clearly prepared for this conversation. My mind raced for some thread of reason in Spitelout's speech that I could use to worm my way out of this situation.

There is one, though. Not one I can think of in time, at least. I can either agree with Spitelout, as which point rumors will spread and Stoick will hear, or disagree and ensure that the Jorgensons and their allies know where I stand.

Damn Hiccup for forcing me into this!

"I just…I…" I sputtered, suddenly more nervous than I would have thought possible in someone's living room, and had to take a breath before giving a coherent answer. "That's not a decision I feel comfortable making, Sir. If I am the last one in the village supporting Stoick, then it would be worth considering…but right now, I feel I would only do more harm than good."

I tried to be as polite as possible to avoid stepping on toes. The problem is, in politics, 'polite neutral' always causes passive-aggression.

Which is preferable to actual aggression, but still not ideal.

Members of the hall displayed a varied set of emotions, but anger and disappointment were by far the most common. Spitelout, to his credit, hid is feelings well.

"Alright, Astrid. I suppose we can't fault Astrid the Faithful for her blind faith, now can we?"

Spitelout just didn't hide his feelings well enough.

I nodded, and swiftly rose to leave, wishing desperately to put distance between myself and the Jorgenson War Party. Fortunately, Spitelout had planned the meeting for lunch time, when everyone else would be busy eating. Vikings really are such simple creatures; if you don't want them to notice you, wait till they are busy eating.

The mostly empty village square felt like a haven compared to literally anywhere else on Berk at the moment. She knew that Hiccup was always somewhere in those woods, or behind buildings, or in the shadows, or the skies, but he _wasn't standing out in the open_. No one was at the moment, and Astrid found a great comfort in that feeling.

Astrid closed her eyes and just stood in the empty street, absorbing what warmth the sun could give and relishing this moment of bliss.

That is, until kids ran by screaming about an attack at the ring.

 _The Ring. The ARENA_.

Hiccup must have made his move, Astrid realized, and began to sprint towards the Arena. When she got there, she realized that Gobber must have been training the young ones through lunch as the kids that didn't go running for help were all surrounding Gobber. The scene was almost funny at first: Gobber's peg leg had been stolen, and someone had gotten his sword-hand accessory stuck deep within the stone wall of the arena.

Astrid sprinted down the ramp into the arena, and as she approached Gobber the situation's humor vanished. Gobber was being supported by the imbedded sword because he was unconscious, with a knot on his head and blood coming out of a stomach wound. Worse still, the weapon that had caused the wound was still stuck in him, and Astrid gasped when she realized what it was: Snotlout's broken sword. The same one that had been found in Hiccup's charred decoy body. The same one that Stoick associated with the murder of his son.

Now Gobber's life was hanging on a limb from the same weapon. Thinking quickly, she ran up and yanked Gobber's body free from the wall and laid him on the ground, all while dispatching another kid to get Goethi. Astrid knew that taking the broken sword out would increase blood loss, but she was afraid that Stoick would see the weapon and make a connection.

There was a booming roar of outcry from the top of the arena, and Astrid knew it wouldn't matter if she hid the sword; Stoick was already here, and she could hear his booming footsteps as he bounded down the ramp. Soon, a large crowd had formed around the arena and the Goethi had been fetched.

It was only a matter of seconds between the time that Goethi pulled out the sword stump and Stoick rushed off in a fit of rage. In those few seconds, Astrid could see the wheels turning in Stoick's head…

 _The Jorgensons and all their allies had been missing from lunch._

 _The sword hilt was the same one that killed Hiccup_.

Stoick didn't need any other proof than that, and the crowd parted as he came through no matter whose side they were on. _No one_ was stopping Stoick right now.

But everyone, save for those few of us trying desperately to stabilize Gobber, followed.

When I finally got free of helping Goethi, I sprinted towards the crowd. It had only been twenty seconds, but in that time there was no way to know how many people could have died. As I ran towards the crowd I realized that there was no way in Hel I was going to be able to push my way through, so I climbed a nearby house to get a better vantage point.

I was powerless to stop anything, but I had a kick-ass view. And sure enough, Hiccup appeared next to me just as the carnage was about to start. I sunk low into a sitting position, and I didn't even flinch when he whispered form behind me.

"Well, hi there, fancy seeing you here! So, uh, how's the peace business treating you?" He mocked. Or maybe it was just sarcasm. I didn't notice. I was sick to my stomach, knowing that whatever Stoick was about to do might be irreversible.

Stoick didn't disappoint, either. The crowd had gathered around Goethi's hut, where I could tell Stoick was inside by his angry yells and the fact that the whole fragile hut was shaking.

A realization dawned across me, causing me to gasp; Hiccup noticed this and must have known what I just thought of.

"Oh, yes, Goethi and the entourage protecting her and Snotlout went to the arena to save Gobber…leaving a paralyzed Snotlout defenseless."

Surely enough, Stoick emerged dragging Snotlout by his head, letting his body flop and scrape all the way down the steps from the hut and continue to drag until Stoick reached one of the large wooden posts that supported our braziers.

The crowd continued to circle, not even Spitelout or his allies calling out a word.

"FROM NOW ON, THIS IS HOW IT WORKS: REBELLION, INSURGANCE, NONCOMPLIANCE, AND DISOBEYING ORDERS WILL BRAND YOU AS A TRAITOR!" Stoick yelled furiously at anyone and everyone. As he whipped his body from side to side to yell at the whole crowd, he continued to drag and fling Snotlout by the head. "AND **THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO TRAITORS!** "

As Stoick finished his vehement roar, he held Snotlout up against the base of the post, and drove the broken sword straight through his chest, deep enough to pierce the metal base of the pole and drive into the wood underneath. His might drove the hand-guard into Snotlout's chest cavity, leaving only half of the handle to stick out. For good measure, he spun the hilt sideways, so that the hand-guard damaged whatever was inside.

When he stood back, Snotlout's body still hung against the pole.


	7. Twin Troubles (heh heh)

V for Viking

Author's Note: What's that, you thought this story was _abandoned_? It's been inactive for like 5 months? Well how about two chapters in two nights, huh? That work for you? :D

Chapter 7

Stupid. Stupid Stupid _Stupid Stupid_ _ **Stupid**_.

I should have known better. I thought I could use Hiccup's own arrogance against him. I thought I had figured him out, and could predict his move. All I did was show that he knows me much better than I thought. He knew that I wouldn't forget the hints he gave me. He knew that I knew his next move involved the arena and Stoick. He played my fears too well. I thought for sure he was going to attack Stoick in the arena, which meant that he would have had to ensure Stoick make it to the arena. I was wrong.

Stoick wasn't his target. It was his weapon. Snotlout ended up as the target, and because of the horrible way it went down, the village might be too far gone for me to stop a war.

I'm not one to drink in a time of crisis, but since I'm waiting for Stoick's War Room meeting to start, I might as well. I'm going to need a few; maybe it will make me a little more unpredictable.

After Stoick nailed Snotlout to a post, he basically instituted martial law. He told everyone to go home and stay there for the rest of the day, and 'think about what you really want to do next.'

Currently, everyone that is close enough to Stoick to be considered important to him is gathered in the Great Hall, waiting for Stoick to come back in. No one has said a word, and other than the sound of me pouring and downing two meads, the Hall has been silent.

And I'm _really_ thinking about a third one right now.

Before I had a chance to get any more, Stoick came marching through the doors. Everyone rose and formed a ring around the large map table that is usually used for planning Nest hunts, except now Stoick grabbed a large map from underneath the table and spread it over the top of the nautical map. It was a wide, accurately scaled map of Berk; but this wasn't a typical village outlay. This map had been designed with the purpose of taking and defending Berk from ground forces, originally for back when the Outcasts were a major threat. It was revised and updated again during the Archipelago War not long ago, though we never had to fight on Berk.

Stoick leaned against the table with both arms, hands laid flat on the map (in the ocean section so as not to block anything), and he just stared at it. Contemplating. Planning. Thinking. While most great Vikings could fell dragons and warriors with a single blow, it was a rare and powerful kind of Viking that was blessed with tactical genius. Every Viking is good at tactics, since we leave and breathe battle, but Stoick was set apart by the depths of genius he had displayed during the War. It was the kind of thing that would come in extremely helpful in my fight to prove Hiccup wrong, and while I'm no slouch at it, I can't contend with the Haddock line.

"Other than to piss me off and declare a feud, killing Gobber accomplishes nothing…" Stoick grunted loud enough for everyone to hear, still not taking his eyes of the center of the map.

"He didn't die, Stoick. But he'll be injured for a while." Someone called out, whether to correct Stoick or attempt to put him at ease. Stoick didn't even seem to acknowledge the comment for a while.

"Then they failed, but they still tried. It changes nothing. _Why Gobber?_ " That last part was an open-ended question that anyone who could answer was free to do so. Many chiefs were arrogant enough to not want to hear others suggestions, but Stoick had no place for arrogance when a war was brewing. The best solution is the best solution, and it doesn't matter who says it; it was a policy that few others employed and it had helped Stoick grow even more popular among his warriors.

It was one of the reasons I rose so quickly; I may have had one or two good ideas in the past.

"E'eryone knows the two of you are close, Stoick. Gobber normally would be standing next to you. This may just be a plain assassination in an attempt to gain an upper hand." A man said from the side. I recognized him as Meda Thornston, the co-head of the Thornston clan that was absent from Spitelout's home earlier.

It appears that siblings taking opposing sides is common in that household, then.

"This was the first move of a Feud, Meda. Give Spitelout and your brother some credit; they wouldn't have chosen just any opening attack." Stoick replied, not convinced that Gobber's attack meant so little.

"What about weapons?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. I guess I can attribute that to the mead, though two pints doesn't usually make me lose control of myself. _Usually_.

"What are you saying, Astrid?" Stoick asked. He must think that I was on to something, and now I've got to ad-lib based on my semi-drunk confession.

"…well…Gobber is the village's only smith, and if there's gonna be fighting…we need weapons. Without Gobber, who would have been only on our side-" I was cut off as the idea started turning inside Stoick's head.

"They're trying to keep us under-armed! Of course, supply line warfare! Why didn't I think o' it? Send for a standing guard to be put on the armory, and make sure that the men are loyal!" Stoick shouted to no one in particular. Fortunately, we have plenty of Vikings who are looking to prove their loyalty and a buzz of activity filled the room.

"That won't do anything, Stoick. Those weapons have been locked up too long; it's just a pile of blunt, rusty steel. We're a Viking village; any weapon worth using is either in someone's hands, homes, or _at the forge_!" I hollered. Stoick's eyes lit up and he quickly agreed with my assumption. Besides, the armory is in the back of the Hall, and if Spitelout makes it all the way back there, then he'll have already cut down everyone in his path.

"Aye, she's right! GATHER AROUND ME! WE'RE GOING TO THE FORGE, _NOW_!"

Like that, everyone drew whatever weapon they had with them and followed after Stoick quickly, and they all knew that there could be the first of many battles waiting for them.

It gave me a chance to be alone for a few moments. I relished it, despite the last time I had a moment like this Gobber was attacked and Snotlout died. Right now, my head was still reeling from the events that had happened earlier and the two pints of mead, while well needed at the time, are now making it more difficult to sort through my thoughts.

Hiccup is winning. He's close to having won. The village is on the brink of war, and it seems too late to stop that from happening. If I'm going to prove Hiccup even slightly wrong, if there is any chance for me to change his mind, then I'm going to need this war to end in a surrender or truce; if there is a final, bloody battle where only those left standing are the victors, then Hiccup will have gotten what he wants. And with the influence over the fucking dragons, there's no way Hiccup would let those last few Vikings live.

I shook my head violently to try to shake myself free of my stupor. Now isn't a time to sit and think about how badly I've handled things so far; I should be out there, making sure Stoick doesn't do anything stupid. He just took an armed party to the middle of the village square and I didn't even think to go with him?

Hiccup is inside my head. He's throwing me off. Every time I make a move I'm paralyzed by the fear that I'm either making things worse or doing what Hiccup wants me to.

Something needs to change, and I don't know exactly what that is, it I can start by getting off my ass and following Stoick.

I raced out the door but by the time I did Stoick was already coming back up the steps with a furious look on his face. This wasn't his 'someone is about to die' look, but his 'someone foiled me and now I'm not going easy' face. I quickly stepped out of the way and then followed him back into the Hall. Before I made it back in, I noticed smoke in the corner of my eye, coming from the direction of the forge.

"What happened?" I whispered to the next closest person, who had been keeping about 15 steps away from Stoick.

"Forge was ablaze long before we got there. There'll be no new weapons or weapon repairs for anyone." He answered quietly so as to not draw attention from Stoick. "And there were no shiny objects within the flames, so that means the Jorgensons must have taken the weapons."

I wondered, for a split second, whether the fire was Hiccup's doing or the Jorgensons, but it doesn't matter. Either way, tensions have risen even further and there is less that I can do.

Once everyone had finally filed back into their spots around Stoick, he broke his intense stare at the map to slam his fist on the table.

"Send criers out to every street and have them declare that there is officially a Feud between the Haddocks and Jorgensons. From this moment on, you're either with me or against me…" Stoick spoke in a low, angry voice.

I went pale. I knew that war was inevitable, but hearing it declared by Stoick was still chilling.

"Astrid…" I flinched when Stoick called my name. He must have seen me go pale and thought that I was opposed to the war (which is technically true) and unlike Hiccup Stoick doesn't have a propensity to keep me alive during his violent outrages. "…This village is going to be split down the middle in way that it's never seen before. We need to do everything we can to keep this from being an even split; the less people Spitelout can sway, the less bloodshed will stain our homes."

Stoick did not seem angry at all. He seemed like he was trying to reason with me. Like he wanted me to do something…

Actually, it felt very similar to my talk with Spitelout earlier.

"I agree, we need to do everything we can to avoid bloodshed, Sir." I responded, choosing every word with extreme care. And of course I had to go and gulp down mead before this…

If Stoick noticed how precise and delicate my answer was, he didn't let on. That being said, it was extremely difficult to match his gaze when he shifted it up from the map.

"Astrid the Faithful has a lot of sway with the neutral clans of Berk. They have always seen you as a competent and level-headed leader, and you gained their trust these last few days by keeping whatever semblance of peace Spitelout would allow. Astrid, we _can't_ afford any of those neutral clans to side with Spitelout…" he trailed off expectantly, as if he anticipated that I would figure out his plan and bring it up as my own.

I did pick up on his plan. It was the same one that Spitelout had tried.

"What would you have me do, Sir? I am already a shield maiden to Berk; everyone knows that."

"I know, that's why this is easy. You're already bound by honor to the village, Astrid. This _is_ the best thing to do; we have to crush the Jorgensons before they turn the Feud into a War. I need you to publically declare your allegiance to me and encourage others to do the same! That's a move that Spitelout can't foil!" Stoick finished proudly to many hollers and fists pounded on tables. He didn't even notice my apprehension; it was as if _whatever I thought was irrelevant…_

Normally he would be right, but something about this seemed wrong to me. Something Spitelout had said earlier stuck with me, try though as I did to ignore his words.

 _What if the whole village is against Stoick? Would they follow a madman if he had my support? Should I throw my weight in with Spitelout, or declare neutrality?_

My mind raced as hard is it could; it would only take a few seconds before Stoick would notice that I wasn't cheering with the men, and then a confrontation would take place. What is Hiccup trying to force me into here? What would he suspect?

I don't think he knows what I'd pick because I don't. He gave me three equally bad choices that are all losing scenarios for me. Side with Spitelout and lose my honor as I overthrow the Chief, side with Stoick and wipe out a clan without knowing if Stoick is fit to lead, or stay neutral and piss them both off, possibly being cast out by both sides.

At least if I pick neutrality, anyone who would look to me wouldn't chose a side. They would have to pick for themselves, so my choice would do the least amount of damage.

"What's wrong, Astrid?" Stoick asked pointedly. The room went silent, all eyes falling to me.

I eyed my escape route to the door—unblocked, should I need it—before giving my answer.

"Sir… As you said, I am already pledged as a shield maiden. Any other declarations I make would only undermine my oath, and that is not something I am willing to do. I _am_ willing to fight to keep this village and this tribe safe, and my actions should mean more than my words ever could.

"I don't appreciate you trying to undermine or question my loyalty, Sir." I threw in that last part mainly so I could pretend to storm out angrily, giving me a convenient excuse to put some distance between Stoick and myself, just in case.

As I got outside, I noticed that the sun had already set. So much had happened that I had forgotten what time it was. I decided I needed time to think, so I decided to go into the woods to practice my axe throws.

During my walk, I began to ponder my next move. Hiccup had masterfully pinned me in a corner now. If Stoick took my refusal as an act of rebellion, then I was alone in my quest to stop a war. One man may have started this war, but it would take more than one to stop it.

I need to do something Hiccup wouldn't expect. In all the old war stories about clever leaders who outsmarted their enemies, there came a point where they decided they needed to be unpredictable. They had to make a move that no one saw coming. What those stories didn't tell you is how stressed those leaders must have been, knowing that everything rational they had tried wasn't working. Those stories also never mentioned how difficult it is to think of something 'unpredictable.'

I mean, seriously, its freaking hard! You have to think an entirely different way, which is not easy, and then you have to do it under the crushing weight of what you are up against (which for me is particularly stressful)! Those stupid stories don't help you—

My thoughts were cut off by a high pitched whistle, the kind usually used to get someone's attention. As I broke out of my stupor I looked around for what would have made the sound, and then realized where I was. I had taken the most direct path to the woods, which had led me between some halls.

In a perfect place for an ambush. In the near darkness, I couldn't tell if anyone was there as I frantically scanned around me. Eventually, a voice pierced the silence above me, from the roofs of one of the halls.

"SHIT!" The voice called as it realized it lost the element of surprise, and the person attempted to jump down on top of me.

I dove out the way just in time as a sword drove into the ground where I had just been standing. Still on the ground, I kicked back and caught my attacker in the stomach, sending them stumbling backwards into a barrel.

"OWW! Why you little…!"

I recognized the voice. It was someone I had broken up a fight with the other day.

" _TUFFNUT_! What are you DOING?!" I yelled furiously.

"You should have sided with the Jorgensons!" He yelled as he charged me again, though this time I was ready. Despite not being able to draw my axe in time, I was confident in my victory, and Tuffnut was visibly worried.

He slashed straight down, not wasting any time with set-up swings, and in the narrow alley I had just enough room to jump right of his sword. I used my momentum to jump into then kick off the wall, leading my weight into a nasty right-hook that spun him around once and left him dazed. He attempted to lash out with his sword but was just clumsily swinging it, and I charged up and easily took it from him. In one swift motion, I grabbed him arm and yanked the weapon away before spinning and sticking it straight through him. He hadn't been wearing any armor or chainmail, likely to keep quiet, and now that would be the last nail in his coffin.

I took a few steps back and had to keep my hands from shaking. Tuffnut tumbled over sideways, blood quickly soaking the front of his shirt and the dirt underneath him.

I had killed someone I grew up with, someone who was a friend. They had tried to _kill me_ for disagreeing with them!

I turned to run out of the alleyway, and by happenstance found Ruffnut walking down the street. She rushed over to me when she saw the look of panic on my face (and Tuff's blood on my clothes).

"Oh gods, Astrid! What happened!?"

"I-I don't know! Tuffnut tried to…he tried to kill me! Just because I wouldn't join them…" Suddenly, I realized that this was her _brother_ I had killed, and I felt I needed to justify myself. "I swear, Ruff, he just attacked me out of nowhere! I was defending myself, I promise!"

I turned to point at where Tuff had jumped from the roof, but Ruffnut didn't need to hear it.

"It's okay, Astrid. I believe you. Tuff's been…confused about things, I guess..." She replied solemnly, but with a hint of nervousness.

Nervousness? Why would she be nervous at the sight of her dead brother?

She wouldn't. She would be nervous seeing what I did to another assassin!

I spun around and, sure enough, Ruffnut had drawn a long dagger and raised it into the air, and I just barely had time to parry her arms before she brought it down into my neck! With her arm now over my shoulder and my back still mostly to her, I yanked the dagger from her hand and spun, just as I had for Tuffnut, and stabbed her in her lower abdomen. It wouldn't be a killing blow, but I knew I couldn't let her call out for help; she could have others waiting by in case she needed help killing me.

I frowned, knowing what I had to do next. I yanked the dagger out of her stomach, and her hands went down to clutch the wound has she began to stumble back in shock. With on quick swipe across her neck, the dagger slit her throat and I yanked her back into the alley and shoved her onto Tuffnut's body to finish bleeding out.

With that done, I tossed the dagger from me and slunk to my knees, now inexplicably tired and freaked out by the feeling of being soaked in the blood of my friends. It was a perverse, haunting feeling that made my stomach sick. One thought took some of the pain away, and that was that as long as this bothered me I wouldn't become Hiccup.

I wonder if Hiccup had known about this. That the Jorgensons and Stoick would both send someone after me, that they'd do it at the same time of day, and that they'd basically send the _same_ person.

I looked at the two bodies in front of me, one having been a supporter of Stoick and the other a supporter of Spitelout. Both of them now sporting mortal wounds. The sight was grotesque.

And it also gave me an idea. Something Hiccup wouldn't expect.

I had just claimed a victory over both Spitelout and Stoick. They both tried and failed to kill me because I was a threat. Hiccup has been trying to force me into one side of the conflict, or get me out of the conflict all together by feigning neutrality.

I have no doubts that Hiccup was the one who whistled to alert me to my attackers. It would ruin his sadistic game if I died now.

If only he knew that he just gave me an idea he can't predict.

I'm going to rally my own supporters. I'm going to make sure that Stoick and Spitelout hear me by speaking their language. I'm going to become a threat to both of them. I'm going to undermine their power and grow my own. I'm going to stabilize the island all while making certain I can trust the person in charge.

I'm going to make this a three-way war for Berk.


	8. Militarized Neutrality

V for Viking

AN: Alright, so here's the eight chapter, and things have started to pick up (both literally in that I am writing again and within the plot). I did upload Chapters 7 & 8 on consecutive nights, so make sure you didn't miss one before starting this one.

Chapter 8

I silently trod through the village; I made sure to wait for the complete darkness of night before moving. No one has found Ruff or Tuff yet, but I'm sure that Stoick and Spitelout know what their absences mean. I don't know what they may do next, and I can't afford to lose any momentum so waiting until morning for this is not an option.

I need my first allies. I need someone to throw their weight behind me and announce to the village that joining me means preserving the village. I need everyone to see that Stoick and Spitelout won't honor 'neutrality' unless it comes with a threat, and if I can gather enough support, I can be that threat. Eventually, I can get more followers than Stoick or Spitelout combined, and at that point begin to facilitate peace talks, whether by their choice or by force.

So I really need to pick my first supporters wisely, and I need them to believe in me 100%. That's why I'm here, unannounced, in the middle of the night. Because this clan is familiar enough with me that they would overlook such shady circumstances.

I knock on the door whilst swiveling my head from side to side. My grandfather once told me that it doesn't count as paranoia if they really are out to get you.

I heard footsteps slowly come to the door. The door opens and—speak of the devil—my grandfather opens the door. Before he speaks, I cut him off with a shush and he catches on, silently letting me inside before closing the door hastily. He beckoned for me to go deeper into his hall, to the back room where he sleeps. It's been years since grandma died in a raid and he built a hall for himself and the families of two of his widowed daughters—my aunts and little cousins. His eldest daughter married into the Thornston clan, while four of his five sons are alive and keeping their own halls (including my dad).

But make no mistake, Papa Hoff runs the Hofferson clan. He's young for a grandfather and 'retired' from being a warrior after serving as the second-in-command under Stoick's father and then worked as our training instructor for a few years before letting Gobber take over. Everyone in our family jokes about how he retired too early because he always seems to be doing something new to utilize his time. Point in case? During the Archipelago War, he un-retired and Stoick promptly loaned him to the Meatheads to serve as a battle strategist. While we all were happy that he would be safe, we kept hearing tales from Meathead soldiers about a gray-haired general who lead the charge to take back Freezing to Death Island.

When asked about these events, Papa Hoff would just shrug and put on an unreadable expression, but every time any Meatheads would come to visit they would always freeze for a moment when he came into a room.

None of those tales surprised me in the least, however. While most of the Hofferson clan views Papa as just a grandfather and old war hero, I happen to have gotten to know the brilliant strategist and flawless warrior hiding in plain sight. Once the raids stopped and it appeared that dragon-slaying skills weren't very useful anymore, Papa Hoff decided to teach me the art of combat in his spare time.

That's why I am here. The Hoffersons are still neutral, and if I can convince Papa Hoff to throw the clans support behind me, then I just might make my plan work.

He lead me into the back room and lit a candle, before turning around to see me still caked in blood from my earlier struggle.

"Whose is that?" He asked gruffly, keeping his voice down to both keep the rest of the hall asleep and make sure no one overheard.

"Not mine…can we talk somewhere more…?" I trailed off, hoping he would know what I meant.

For a few years, he had always hinted that he had a hidden room, a small sanctuary and storage area—his own war room—hidden away somewhere, though he had never shown it to me. He always commented that someday a day may come when I needed to use it, though it never occurred to me that I would use during a war on Berk.

I was afraid he wouldn't trust me enough, or that he would be skeptical of the fact I showed up covered in blood past midnight, but he appeared to talk it over in his head before going to the chest in the back of the room and opening the lid. Inside where just some assorted winter blankets, but he began taking them out and setting them on his bed. Once the chest was empty, he removed the bottom hatch to reveal a hole in the floor with a ladder leading into the ground below.

"Well, go on down and make sure someone catches me when I fall…" he mocked. Papa Hoff always was one to makes 'old jokes' about himself, more to mock the people who would be dumb enough to call him old and fragile.

I climbed down as instructed, and he handed down a candle before coming down himself, making sure to close the lid behind him. Leaning against the wall on the base of the floor were a few blankets and a replacement for the bottom of the chest, which he then used to cover the hole in the bottom of the chest. Anyone who came into his room while we were gone would see a bed with an extra blanket or two, and a chest in the corner filled with blankets, per usual.

Once candles around the room were lit up, I saw a room exactly the same size as Papa Hoff's, just built directly beneath it. There were wooden rafters serving for a sealing with what appeared to be very precisely placed tar to seal it, and the walls were built the same way. There was a table against the wall with a map of Berk on it, much like the map Stoick was using in the Great Hall, except this one appeared to be hand-drawn by Papa. On one wall hung an impressive assortment of weapons while the mirroring wall held Papa's old battle armor, but the fourth wall intrigued me the most. There were shelves covering all of the wall except where the ladder came down in the corner, and the shelves appeared to be decorated with trophies. Among them were a fancy Berserker helm (with a large dent), an assortment of various jewelry, and…a strange black scale.

"Interesting, isn't it?" Papa asked from a chair he had pulled from the desk. He had caught me staring at the scale instead of everything else.

"It…yeah, I guess. Why one scale among everything else?"

"It's just a reminder of a battle I lost…of a day where I should have died… But I believe we were going to talk about you…"

"Er...right. I was…uh…attacked, earlier…" I said somewhat shyly, as though having an assassination attempt on your life was taboo. Two, actually.

"Spitelout tried to bump you off, eh?" He replied casually and I remembered that his sharp mind wasn't just good on the battlefield; he was also good at reading people and playing them against one another.

"Him _and_ Stoick, actually. Spitelout sent Tuffnut and Stoick sent Ruffnut…" My reply was greeted with his eyes raising slightly, before I continued. "…and they're both lying dead in an alley between two halls. They'll be discovered in the morning by someone."

"Well, I'm going to go on a limb here and say that you rejected Spitelout's offer to switch sides, but what'd you do to Stoick?" He asked, clearly with suspicions but not giving voice to them just yet.

I took a breath to calm myself down before answering.

"He wanted me to publically declare my allegiance to him, and I told him that I felt that would cheapen my oath as a shield maiden, but…" I trailed off.

"…but you have reservations about fighting for Stoick? You don't want to pick a side, do you?"

"That's why I said no. I don't think we should have feud at all; it's going to tear the village apart."

He looked at me skeptically for a moment, before chuckling through his next comment.

"…and your pacifism is why you're covered in blood?"

"More or less, yes. Neither of them appreciated my position and decided that I was a threat… which made me think, why _not_ be a threat? If I can gather enough support, I can force them to settle this like somewhat civilized people and keep war away from our homes."

"Forced arbitration? Well, that's certainly an interesting idea, but I never took you for one to usurp the throne…" he trailed off sharply, watching my reaction.

"I know that's how it will look, but that's _not_ what I'm trying to do. I just want to give everyone a third option—someone who wants to fight to keep Berk together—and hopefully show Stoick and Spitelout that they will either have to fight by themselves or settle things without blows."

He was silent, never breaking eye contact or expression anything in his face. I could tell he was judging me, weighing his options, predicting how things might play out, so I returned his steely stare.

"…and that what brings you to me. You're not worried about the people you killed and looking for advice from your wise old Papa; you're asking me to pledge the allegiance of the Hofferson clan to you over Stoick or Spitelout."

"You're not pledging your support for me as chief, Papa. Your declaring that you want nothing to do with the feud, and that you will help support anyone else who also wants nothing to do with the feud. If we can get the majority of the village on our side, then we'll force Stoick and Spitelout's hands. You're not pledging to me; your pledging to our future…"

He stared at me for a little longer, before chuckling and waving his finger at me.

"Heh heh… I think that, as long as you finish with that line, there isn't a clan not named Jorgenson that wouldn't support you. As soon as you want to publically declare your position, your family will be there with you."

I smiled and got up to give him a hug, which he readily accepted. When we broke apart, an idea struck me.

"Say, Papa, you wouldn't happen to be able to think of anyone else who would be ready to support us, would you?"

4 HOURS LATER – SUNRISE

It's amazing what a few hours of sleep and a change of clothes can do for your mood (thought beginning to see a plan come together doesn't hurt either). Papa woke me up just as the sun was starting to peak over the horizon, and I was able to visit the halls of three more families that Papa Hoff identified as potential allies, and while they seemed skeptical, they agreed that an alliance of allied clans for collective bargaining couldn't hurt and agreed to join.

Now I just have to figure out the best time to make an announcement to the village. It would be best to play on any regrets villagers might have about picking a side, so if I can wait until after the first skirmish between Stoick and Spitelout then my message may be more powerful, but that means that lives will be lost because I waited. I think that given the fact that I'm trying to save _all_ of Berk, a few Vikings dying in battle is a small price to pay.

But that doesn't mean I have to like it, though.

As I exited the hall of the third family I spoke with, I began to notice a sense of panic in the air as people began rushing towards the fields. I kept up with the crowds only to notice everyone stop about fifty yards away from one of our mills; specifically, the one that also housed Berk's largest bread bakery. While bread seems (and tastes) dull on Berk, there should be a sizable storage of bread in there, making this an excellent spot for a food raid.

And currently, with this mill far away from the docks, it sits in what is unquestionably Stoic's territory.

That being said, it was being ransacked by Spitelout's men in a very organized and intentional manner. Half of the men worked to bag as much bread as they could before heading out, and the other half stood guard while ignoring the crowd that had gathered to watch them. They weren't expecting to just steal some bread and leave; they were prepared to battle Stoic's men in front of anyone who would watch as a show of strength and a hopeful recruiting tactic.

Once a man had a bad full of bread, he headed off through the fields towards the woods. The people around me began to question why running away with the bread would make any sense, but it didn't take me long to figure it out; _they control the docks, which means boats. They must be beached somewhere on the other side and figured it safer to just sail around then march through Stoic' territory_. It was actually a smart tactic.

"WHAT'S GOING ON HE— **WE'RE UNDER ATTACK! EVERYONE WITH ME!** " Stoic boomed as he rounded a corner to find the crowd and raiding party, before charging straight at the armed guards, hammer in hand. Several men came to his aid, and just like that we had a fairly even fight with a full crowd to watch.

Just before Stoic reached the men, Spitelout's commander (as Spitelout was absent, likely still hiding at the docks) ordered for everyone from his bread-sacking group to retreat while his guards held the line, and then shortly after a small explosion came from within the mill, catching it on fire from the inside. Stoic was startled at this, but quickly regained his rage as he realized that they were not planning on leaving anything behind.

Except…I saw surprise in the commander's eyes. While he certainly wasn't sad to see that a fire had been set, the small boom and subsequent fire surprised him. He likely just wrote it off as one of his men taking the initiative, but if neither side wanted that mill on fire, then that meant some _else_ wanted that mill on fire.

And that likely means that there is something else entirely going on here that I haven't found out yet.

Instead of diverting anyone to save the mill, Stoic lead his counter-attack against Spitelout's forces, soundly forcing them back while killing the first four men he came across. Once the commander noticed Stoic's progress, he redirected more men then Stoic could handle at him and Stoic—known for a remarkably cool head during a fight—backed down rather than take on what was an obvious challenge he couldn't win. With Stoic's momentum stopped and the mill deeply ablaze, the commander ordered his men to make a full retreat (and by that start running as fast as they could for the woods), and before Stoic could give chase a blood-curdling scream was heard from inside the mill.

Not just any scream, either. A little girl's scream. Followed by another, and then a little boy's scream, and then another.

Without any hesitation, Stoic charged head-first into the burning mill, but only returned with one little girl before the whole structure collapsed on itself.

The girl's parents—part of the Ingermann family, one of Stoic's greatest supporters—ran up to take her from Stoic, who handed her off then marched back towards town with a fury that would make a mountain tremble. Those who considered themselves close or loyal supporters of Stoic followed sheepishly, leaving a large crowd gathered around a severely burned little girl.

"Baby! What happened?! Why were you in there?" The girl's mother frantically voiced.

"We were playing behind the mill and—OW—we played Dragons vs Vikings and then a—OW OW—when we say the men breaking in we were scared but then—OW—a man told us not to worry and to just go inside and hide—OW—and that he was a good guy and if we were quiet no matter what then the men wouldn't find us!" She cried while trying to be as still as possible; when she moved, it aggravated her burns and set her through even more pain and tears.

The crowd was silent, save for the occasional hysterical mother who remembered her kid asking to go play games with their friends earlier that day. We all knew that Dragons vs Vikings always has at least ten kids to start, and usually is higher than that. It didn't take long for that math to spread through the crowd.

At least _nine_ children, dead. Burnt to a crisp, seemingly by Spitelout's men. Everyone else had the same realization.

"THEY KILLED OUR CHILDREN!"

"WHAT DOES SPITELOUT THINK HE'S DOING?!"

"NO ONE DESERVES THAT!"

Then soon came a chorus of opposing views which only served to confuse the crowd and stir up conflict.

"THAT'S NOT SPITELOUT'S FAULT! THEY JUST WANTED STOIC TO WASTE TIME PUTTING THE FIRE OUT SO THEY COULD LEAVE!"

"YEAH! THEY COULDN'T HAVE KNOWN THAT STOIC _WOULDN'T CARE_!"

As the crowd's arguments began to get heated, I spied a wooden box that had somehow escaped both the raiding party and suspicious fire, and I made my way over to it then jumped on top of it.

"EVERYONE, **LISTEN**!" I yelled at the top of my lungs and was successful at gaining the majority of the crowd's attention. "This isn't something we can chose someone to blame for! This is something that we can only blame ourselves for! Spitelout wasn't right to raid this mill, and Stoic wasn't right to let a fire consume part of his village! Everyone is losing their head and deciding what side of a war to take, when we haven't realized that we shouldn't take part in the war!"

The crowd was silent, all eyes on me. It's now or never. I scanned the audience, and caught sight of my Papa who nodded to me.

"If Stoic and Spitelout want to tear each other's throats out, then that's between them. But when they try to tear our village apart…when children die because men are too busy fighting in a feud they have no claim in…THAT'S not something we can stand for! I won't allow Stoic or Spitelout to bully _anyone_ into picking a side! Both Stoic and Spitelout tried to have me assassinated when I refused to pledge to them…" a few mouths gasped in the crowd, and I noticed a few members of the Thornston family in the crowd. "…and I'm sorry to say that both Ruffnut and Tuffnut failed to kill me because I killed them back, but that taught me that we can't afford to be 'neutral'! Not picking a side is not an option! I want to keep Berk from destroying itself by stripping Stoic and Spitelout of their followers, their influence, and their power until they can settle this like grown men, not the damn children they've been acting like!"

And, finally, the moment of truth…

"Is anyone with me?!"

I'm not sure what I expected, considering that my chief would basically see this as treason, but I felt extremely nervous. I wasn't sure if the crowd would stare silently or go nuts, but I was praying to Thor that something good would happen. I knew that Papa had promised to publically pledge support, and gaining those first followers is key to getting more to follow, but I still felt so completely anxious once I finished my speech.

I didn't need to be. Like we had planned, Papa Hoff spoke up as soon as I was finished.

"The strength of the Hofferson clan supports you, Astrid the _Protector_!" Papa hollered as he drew and raised up his sword, all the while giving me a new title. As soon as I heard it, I knew he had spent all night thinking of this moment and everything he could do to help. _Protector._ It emphasizes that I'm trying to preserve Berk and not steal the throne.

I like it.

To Papa's credit, he played his part dramatically and perfectly. Once he finished, the three other (admittedly smaller) families I has spoken with declared their support, and then the crowd began to become restless. While many people did not want to throw their weight behind me, many others did, and at the very least I had given everyone a third, less bloody option.

As those who disagreed dispersed back towards the village, I finally got a good sense of what I had accomplished, and it was far more than I could have hoped for for my opening move. Standing before me was around one-third of Berk.

I had leveling the playing field, and I was just getting started…


	9. Aromantic Flight (is that a thing)

V for Viking

Author's Note: I can't really think of anything witty or relevant to put here.

Second Author's Note Added Well After That First, Naïve Author's Note: So yea, this one took a while. I had this chapter brewing for a while but I couldn't get it to sit right with me for the longest time. Let me know your thoughts, as always.

Chapter 9

I stood alone in my quarters, in the largest saw-mill Berk has; it happened to be the farthest major building from both Stoic and Spitelout and bordered the forest. Isolated. Sturdy. It makes for a great location for us to work on preparations and allows us to send people into the forest to hunt for food.

In my quarters, there are papers adorning all of the walls; all of them are copied from the War Room, but I insisted on having my own set to stare at. There's a map of Berk (though the maker was slightly hurried so it wasn't perfectly accurate, not that it would matter) and a chart of all major and mid-major players in this fight. I have all sorts of notes scribbled under each of them.

Locked in my desk, written in code, are my notes on Hiccup. I needed somewhere to write them down and look them over, even if I had to change all the names associated.

Currently, I'm sitting at the desk looking over what I had just written. Fishlegs was due to come in any minute to look it over for spelling mistakes and other errors before giving to the team ready to copy it. I have to make sure I'm careful, though; this is more than a proposition, it's a mission statement. Anyone who sees this will take its literal meaning as the purpose for me raising troops, and if it comes across wrong I could lose support.

It's also a chance for me to reassure myself that I am _not_ , in fact, subconsciously trying to take over Berk. This is my chance to put it in writing that I want to preserve Berk, not take it for myself, and if I say it right then I can further undermine Stoic and Spitelout's forces.

 _I, Astrid Hofferson the Loyal and Faithful, declare that Stoic and Spitelout are currently ill-fit to lead as they are both too emotionally compromised and are not thinking with the best interest of Berk in mind. I swear that any action I make will not be to bolster my own standing, but to preserve Berk by keeping them from tearing us apart. If they wish to tear each-others' throats out, they may do so; but as long as I am here they will not kill my brothers and sisters._

I looked it over again and again, pondering if I could say it any better. Or shorter; Vikings aren't the most literate of people, so the shorter the better. I'm hoping that I come off as dutiful and dedicated and that I can ride a wave of pride to sway people. Surely there are men and women who are just picking a side because they think that it is the best option to keep their family safe, and if I can bring those people to my side then Stoic and Spitelout may see how much the village wants peace.

I decided it was the best I could do, and had just finished signing it when Fishlegs walked in.

"Ah, good timing. Here, read over it and tell me if anything needs changing. Actually, you know what, if it needs it just do it; I don't feel that I need to tell _you_ that we don't want this war."

Fishlegs nodded and took the paper. He had left the majority of his family when he defected to my side, mainly because he doesn't truly have the stomach for bloodshed; he's brilliant and clever and built like a stone wall, but prefers to stay behind the scenes or just working to improve mechanical things around the village. In a way, he's a lot like what I would imagine Hiccup would have become (minus the towering appearance) had—well, had he not gone through hell. If I'm completely honest that's a large reason of why I promoted him so quickly.

I shuddered at the fleeting thought of Fishlegs murdering everyone he knew like Hiccup does now.

"Any news from the front?"

"Nope. Lunch time like now is always quiet, but all scouts have indicated that there doesn't seem to be another battle brewing today. Stoic is salvaging whatever he can from surrounding halls and Spitelout's forces are half-split between defense and fishing excursions. If this holds, it will be a great day to deliver our statements." Fishlegs replied while still reading over my statement.

After a few moments of silence, I asked him for his thoughts on it. He continued to stare it down, but eventually declared he found it to be good and then excused himself to take it to the War Room where our copy-team was waiting.

"Oh, and Fish…" I called out as he started to exit the door, "I'm going to take a walk for a few hours to clear my head, since there shouldn't be any fights. If something _does_ happen…"

"I know, I know, I'm in charge. Scout, Announce, Intervene, Recruit; same steps as always…" he replied half-mockingly. I had implemented our standard procedure early on in the hopes that it would keep the men from getting out of hand if and when we did join a battle.

Scout: obvious step, as it is always best to know what you're getting into.

Announce: We don't do sneak attacks because we aren't intending to kill anyone. We will if we have to, but I think it is better if they know we are there and what we are there to do.

Intervene: This is where we pick up the swords. Typically I try to engage both sides in a flank that happens right at the point where the two forces meet, which forces them to acknowledge my presence and divide their attention or retreat. It's worked pretty well so far.

Recruit: The most important part is letting the opposing warriors know that we want to preserve Berk, and that our cause is worth fighting for (which implies that theirs is not). Every time I knock someone's weapon away or pull up on a killing blow, I remind them that they aren't my enemy. That's an extremely powerful tactic that earns you a lot of good will.

Once Fishlegs closed the door, I made sure to lock the drawer with my Hiccup-notes before grabbing my stuff. Axe, armor, the works; you never know who might come across you, so as a leader of a small army, it helps to be prepared.

My quarters didn't have its own outdoor exit, but seeing as it is on the second story I made sure to have a rope brought up to my window as an emergency escape route. At least, it was originally for emergencies; now it just helped me escape the pressures of running an army.

I slid down the rope, and once I hit the ground I scanned the area from left to right. No people as far as I could see, until I looked to my far right; literally right against the wall where I had landed was Hiccup in his full black armor and mask.

I instinctively reached for my axe, but Hiccup gently caught my wrist while giving me a 'shush' expression with the other.

"Do you want to go for a ride?" He asked in a hushed tone, much to my surprise.

"…do I want to—is that a euphemism!?" I replied, only for him to point straight up. I followed his finger with my line of sight to see a Deadly Nadder standing on the roof, with its head poked over the head at us.

Before I could do anything it seemed, it had jumped down and picked us up before flying off unseen by the dozens of Vikings inside.

The first fifteen seconds sucked as it held each of us with a different claw, but once we got some distance away from the village it stopped to let us properly hop aboard.

"Well, go ahead." Hiccup encouraged, giving me the front seat. I gave him a funny look (channeling it from how weird this scenario was) but hopped aboard anyways.

"You aren't going to stab me in the back, are you?" I asked sardonically as he climbed aboard and say behind me.

"Only if you try to kill me for hanging on once we take off." He replied equally cynically.

Some part of me tensed as I realized that he would have to wrap himself around me to hold on, but I decided to ignore that for now.

However, I did not ignore it fast enough as the dragon took off again while I was still distracted, sending my stomach into loops.

And I refuse to think that any of the stomach flops could have come from the murderer whose arms were now wrapped around me.

Once we were in the air, those feelings stopped; ALL feelings stopped. We gently flew high above the island, occasionally dipping in and out of the clouds, and I spent considerable effort on trying to concentrate on everything around me.

The view was gorgeous; the wind felt euphoric on my skin; the exhilaration of speed made everything slow down. It was immediately addicting, and that doesn't even mention the feeling of pure freedom that radiated throughout the whole experience.

Hiccup chuckled from his perch on my shoulder, watching me take it all in.

"I remember my first time; of course, I almost died, but you seem to be enjoying it without that added bonus…" he remarked playfully at first, but began to trail off towards the end. He seemed to get…sadder as he spoke.

"How did you discover this?"

Hiccup stiffened for a few seconds, before releasing his tension as he spoke.

"I…shot down my best friend—T-Toothless—and had to build him a new tailfin in order to fly. I kinda had to ride with him to make it work, though."

"Wait… when was this? When did _you_ ever shoot down a dragon?" I asked somewhat incredulously.

"Oh you know, in between being a disappointment to my father and being castrated by the village…" Hiccup replied darkly, though with a strong mocking undertone.

"…didn't you say Toothless was a…? You mean that raid you…?" I startled fumbling words out of my mouth before I could even decide what I wanted to say.

" _You_ shot down a _**Night Fury**_?" I asked completely incredulously.

"That about sums it up. The village's worst specimen shot down the Dragons' greatest. Irony is the purest form…"

After that, the conversation lulled into a somewhat awkward silence, though I was trying my best to focus on the incredible feeling of flight rather than wonder what was really going on.

But I couldn't hold off long enough; I eventually cut through the silence.

" _Hiccup_ …Why are we here?" I asked pointedly.

"I dunno. It's one of life's great mysteries…are we just the byproduct of some cosmic coincidence, or are there really gods with plans for us?" Hiccup replied in a serious tone but obviously mocking intentions.

"Very funny; don't deflect. What are we doing up here? I thought we were enemies here, or at the very least adversaries…"

"And that means we can't still be friends?" He replied curtly, but unlike pretty much everything else up to this point, he was being genuine.

"Uh…well-but…yes, kinda!" I sputtered out, unable to find an answer to such an unusual question immediately.

"Then I don't understand why. We have radically different views on the world, and are both walking paths that will ultimately end in a bloody battle to resolve our philosophies, but that doesn't mean we can't put that aside for one evening to be friends, does it?"

"It usually does…" I stated in a matter-of-fact way, but trailed off towards the end as I began to think. I've never met someone who wanted to be friends when we weren't being enemies; I mean I haven't ever heard of such a thing.

"You really want to do that? I thought you came back to Berk to kill everyone here…"

Hiccup took a deep breath, and slightly squeezed his arms (still around me, by the way) before answering my question.

"When I came back to Berk…I came with a set expectation of you all, and specific expectations for a lot of individuals. So far, everyone I met or interacted with fell in line with what I expected perfectly; everyone was exactly who I thought needed to die…

"Except you. I can't figure you out for the life of me; I can predict most of your moves, but every once in a while you do something that I didn't expect…something contrary to what I believe about you. I don't think—you…you aren't like them, Astrid. There's something _more_ to you. Unfortunately, whatever it is about you is dead-set on protecting your village, so I'm hoping that…I don't know, that maybe you'll see things the way I do. Or maybe you'll make me see things your way."

He let a long pause set in before capping of what he said.

"I guess I'm hoping that before this is over, you've given me reason to not kill you…"

I took a lot of time to process this, and Hiccup just sat there holding on to me as I thought.

If I just looked at the words Hiccup said, I would be remarkably underwhelmed and honestly a little freaked out. But I can't ignore the emotion Hiccup spoke with; the raw care, the desperate conflict, and most importantly…the small spark of hope. That's what I've been looking for (or at) the whole time, even if I didn't know it. That's the reason I have played along with his awful actions. That's the reason that I've been mesmerized by him since he returned. Despite everything that he's been through and despite how twisted and evil he has chosen to be, there's that small spark of hope inside of him that could save him.

I just need to know how to make it grow.

"Alright, Hiccup. If you think we should be friends for the rest of the day, then I'll do it. But you have to promise me that you tell me the truth when I ask you something, okay?"

"Sure. What are friends for, after all…"

An hour later, after landing on a small island outcropping then catching fish for dinner, eating them, and making small talk the whole time, both Astrid and Hiccup sat against the side of a Nadder, simply staring out at the ocean.

As one conversation died, instead of starting another meaningless one, Hiccup decided to cut into something deeper.

"Seeing you riding for the first time…that brought back a lot of good memories, but… it hurts…" he chose his words carefully, and the sentiment behind them was evident.

This is the first time he has opened up without prodding, so I need to be ultra-sensitive not to force him to close up again. But I also need to gain as much insight as I can as quickly as I can.

"Well, since you tried to explain why you aren't crazy because you can hear these dragons speak, what was Toothless like?" I added a careful measure of sarcasm before my question, mainly because Hiccup has shown a propensity for sarcasm and an appreciation of it, and I knew that it wasn't likely to offend him much.

"Heh…that stupid son of a gun was complex to say the least. He was as proud and arrogant as they come, with good levels of sass and sarcasm, but he was also the greatest companion you could ask for and had a knack for reading into situations with very little information. He always knew when a good ribbing was due versus when a helpful ear was needed. And he was _always_ around… we were sorta all each other had left."

"I'm…sorry." I said empathetically but without thought. "He sounds…he sounds like a better friend than I could ever be to anyone. I can see why losing him would be so hard…

"Would you mind…telling me the story of how he…of how you lost him?"

I looked over to see him looking at me, and we locked eyes. I made sure to keep my eyes as soft and as welcoming as possible, and he just stared into them as he thought. We were only a foot apart (Nadders aren't the widest dragon around) and I couldn't tell how much time passed as I stared back into his eyes.

And try as I might, I would be lying to tell myself that I wasn't lost in them. As strange and as confusing as it was to be gazing into the eyes of a murderer and an enemy, I couldn't bring myself to break away from staring into the eyes of my _friend_.

"Well… we had just come back from a large tour of the far South. We had seen things you wouldn't believe and had experienced so many difference worlds that we were spoiled. People down there didn't idolize plunder or war, and they were bloodthirsty upon sighting a dragon. They were reasonable people, who practiced diplomatic solutions to problems such as a dragon rider or two strolling into town. When we came back to the Archipelago, we wanted to show everyone that peace was possible. We wanted to stop the fighting and show the villages that dragons weren't our enemies… The first village we came to seemed welcoming (for Vikings) and invited me to speak before the Council. Toothless…was uneasy about it, but I had always thought that chief Thuggory (or Thug as I knew him) was a good guy so we went…"

He paused and looked over at me with pain evident in his eyes, and I gasped at the implication.

"No…" I mumbled.

"He took two spears in the wing during the ambush, and after I slit Thuggory's throat he told me we had to leave. The rest of the village was waiting outside, and Toothless tossed me in the air where one of the Nadders was hovering and ordered her to get me safe. That was the last time I saw him; we locked eyes as I was screaming in hurt and rage. Ten minutes later, when I had rallied every dragon I had waiting nearby, I wiped out every single one of those barbarians. I personally slit the throat of over half of the island, and I always, _always_ made sure to kill the children in front of their fucking parents. Nothing was enough, though. None of that changed the fact that his body lay there lifeless. None of it mattered…and none of this _will_ mater. The violence just takes my mind of off it, but that's eventually numbed. I need more creative ways to kill, more pain induced, more intense moments to dull the ache. And when that's not enough…" he trailed off, looking down at a small knife in his hands. "…then I guess I'll be out of options…"

"What the _fuck_ , Hiccup? Like what the actual _FUCK_?!" I exclaimed, surprising both of us. Me especially. "What gives you the right to turn into a monster!? You aren't the only one who has ever been lied to, or ever lost someone! You want to hide behind your precious crusade against Vikings and pretend that your intentions are pure enough to justify the fact that you are AS MUCH A VIKING AS THERE EVER WAS! One thing goes wrong, one person close to you dies, and you just succumb to rage and kill everything in sight! Gods, you're just like your father!"

I seethed as I finished my rant, having long before stood upon and paced back and forth as I verbally berated Hiccup. As I cooled off, I took the opportunity to examine Hiccup. He wasn't as shaken or angered at my speech as he should have been; he didn't seem to react much at all. He seemed as if he was just accepting my wrath as some small form of punishment, which is good I suppose. That shows that there is still a part of him that feels guilty for what he's done and that side of him is strong enough to win a few battles with his hate.

But still, it felt like he was taking this all too well. There must be something that is getting him through it; some thought or fact that he takes comfort in, something that I don't know of. Some reason I am not aware of that helps him justify all he's done.

"Who…who else did they take from you, Hiccup? It wasn't just Toothless, was it?"

He visibly startled at my revelation and looked at me with surprise in his eyes. That all but confirmed that is wasn't just Toothless.

"I…I had a family, Astrid. People who cared for me…people who I cared for. When I left Berk, I was…lonely. No—alone. I was alone. This place screwed me up pretty good…it took me years to realize that I needed I new family. No more running, no more fighting…I needed something permanent." He admitted quietly as I still stood above him. He struggled to make eye contact and when he did, he couldn't hold it. "I found people like me. Outcasts, screw-ups, hiccups. At first, we were all friends, but as time went on we found something more. Not anything romantic or desperate…we just found a connection we had all lacked. A sense of belonging. The feeling that people loved you and supported you through anything…"

There was a long pause; Hiccup saw fit to saw nothing and wouldn't bring his gaze back to mine, and I was too shocked to even remember how to speak.

"There was Rin, always lighthearted and optimistic, right up until Thuggory cut his head off…

"And little Rora, as fierce and playful as a Valkyrie. If she still had her arms she would be sparring in Valhalla now.

"And Pirrah, who was impaled with an arrow… And Tlake, who was stabbed repeatedly…

"All of them, dying in front of me because I was so STUPID as to trust you fucking Vikings! I had to watch all of them die from a cage! One by one they were picked off like it was some sort of sick game! You think that I'm awful for putting out the fire?! You should have seen it at full blaze, Astrid; it will haunt me the rest of my life."

He finally made eye contact with me, and his eyes told a magnificent and confusing tale; so much pain and fire mixed with sadness and despair, and all blended into two magnificent green orbs that were glassed over at the moment.

A minute passed after he had torn his eyes away to look at the grass.

"I should go. You should go. We aren't going to solve anything doing this…this was. This was a mistake. I'm sorry I dragged you out here, Astrid. I'll have you dropped back off outside your headquarters."

Before I could stop him or say a word, he hopped up and leaped off the cliff, only to be caught by a Zippleback that had apparently been waiting below for quite some time. After this, the Nadder allowed me back on its back before it took of back towards the village.

I was silent the rest of the night. Sunset had almost completed by the time I got back inside headquarters, and I walked past some scribes busy transcribing my statement from earlier. Too emotionally tired from the talks I had had with Hiccup, I didn't bother saying hello and was rather agitated when one of them asked me to stop.

"Uh, Ma'am, are you sure this is what you want to say?" One of the scribes asked nervously, causing all the other scribes to stop and look at him. Apparently he had asked something they all were curious about.

"Yes, just hurry up and get them posted. Fishlegs and I hammered out the statement earlier today." I responded grumpily, and that was enough for them.

Though it was barely night, I decided to go to sleep as soon as I got in my quarters. No note taking, no strategy planning, just a well-needed night of sleep.

In the morning, I was woken up way too early by frantic knocks at my door. I begrudgingly got up to answer the door to find a panicked Fishlegs invite himself into my room.

"What happened, Astrid?!" He exclaimed nervously, not leaving me any time to reply. "It's all gone backwards, people have been abandoning us left and right! Why did you change the statement!?"

"What!? What changes to the statement? I gave it to you and left for the night!" I responded defensively.

"The whole part about not wanting to stake a claim to the chiefdom is gone! Your signed, authorized statement says that you intend on showing Stoick and Spitelout what a real Viking does as you conquer them both! We had men and women deserting us and going back to Stoick and Spitelout!"

"WHAT!? How many!?"

He never responded, so I had to ask again. Everyone knows that bad things happen if I have to ask twice.

"Fishlegs. How. MANY?"

"I…it seems that the battle for Berk is now an equal three-way war, or we might even be at a disadvantage now…" Fishlegs mumbled.

A thought ran through my head. Hiccup must have done this, but how? He was with me the whole time, and he is the only person who would have the motive to sabotage something like me personal statement. Is it possible that one of his dragons baited and switched Fishlegs or one of the carriers of the original statement?

That doesn't seem likely, but I suppose it doesn't matter. Whatever the means, Hiccup had pretty much just insured that I wouldn't be able to unite Berk under the banner of unity. It would take way too long to undo whatever damage this would cause.

Barring a miracle, Hiccup had just ensure Berk's self destruction.


	10. lets gET READY TO RUMBLE

V for Viking

AN: Yeah, it has been longer than I would like. For some reason, I lack the motivation to do much of anything during the summer. Something about the lazy atmosphere keeps me from getting things done. I honestly get more time to write during a busy schoolyear where I monopolize my time and have a sense of urgency and importance about me. Meh. Here it is.

Chapter 10

Normally, I don't mind having company during lunch. I'll invite my trusted friends, or sometimes my best fighters, maybe the best thinkers, or occasionally call up some low-level scouts or foot soldiers just for some relaxing facetime. Running a small army is easiest when it feels like everyone knows you, and it is much easier when you know everyone. You can diagnose problems faster and identify leaders much more quickly that way.

Today, despite Hiccup switching my statements last night, despite the utter confusion that was this morning, despite the further-complicated political and actual battlefields, today I am eating lunch alone in my quarters. I need to think.

Or maybe I need to stop thinking. At any given time earlier I was dealing with ten simultaneous problems, and that was when I was lucky. Once word had been received that Spitelout and Stoick had a small skirmish in a pivotal chokepoint and that both sides had begun setting up encampments there, things got worse. Now, it seems likely that they will initiate a massive winner-take-all battle there; both Stoick has grown impatient and knows he cannot hold out forever, and Spitelout knows he can exploit this.

There are any number of things I should be doing while I eat: I need to formulate a plan for intervening in the battle, I need to review scout reports that have begun piling since that first report earlier, I need to think of a way to save face after my 'announcement,' but no matter what I do I can't help but think back to last night.

 _Hiccup_. I am so utterly confused on what to do. I saw it in his eyes last night. I saw the proof that I needed: I saw the pain and guilt and sadness and timidity and innocence that are so wholly _Hiccup_. They never went away. He's still in there and it hurts to think what that part of Hiccup—the old Hiccup—would say if he were now. But the other part—the new Hiccup—is so enraged I'm not sure what I can even do. I want to give him a chance. I want to believe that there is something I can do, some right combination of words and circumstance, that can snap him out of his stupor and bring back the old Hiccup.

I want so very badly to believe that I can save him. I just don't.

I can't believe that I can save him. I can't truly trust that he will return to me—to us. All he told me last night had to be true because of the pain it caused him. His pain was genuine and heartbreaking to watch unfold, but it's his reaction to that pain. He must have spent years closed off to the world, and after he had been coaxed back into loving and trusting others, they were taken from him brutally. I can understand how that changes someone and I just don't think I can see it being reversed.

Maybe. Maybe if he hadn't brought me out to the cliff so he could get to my written statement. Maybe if our heart to heart wasn't a cover for a dirty trick that would ensure more violence. Maybe if whatever feelings he stirred last night weren't caused by Hiccup's plan to murder Berk. Maybe then I could have been able to believe it possible. Maybe I would truly trust that I _could_ save him and reopen him to the world.

Even if I did, then I would have to make sure he died before I did, or I would start the cycle all over again.

I looked down and noticed my food was gone and realized I had spent enough time daydreaming. There's a war going on outside these walls and I'm the only one trying to save us. I spend time pining over what-ifs.

Once I rejoined the world, I ordered Fishlegs to come with me. I decided to head a small raiding exposition based on two reports confirming that Spitelout was storing small amounts of supplies behind their encampments for quick restocks. These caches are out of sight for any of Stoick's spies, but being this far out of town means my spies have access to far more routes and thus can get me more information.

As I walk about the makeshift barracks, mainly consisting of tents on the far side of the compound (away from the village), I feel the weight of eyes upon me. I know that all of them are watching me while thinking of my statement. If they are still here, then they are basically pledging their allegiance to _me_ over Stoick or Spitelout. And I have nearly a third of the village, maybe close to a fourth. All of these people chose me, and this isn't lost on me.

"Alright, listen up! Fish and I are leading a small raiding squad, twenty Vikings maximum! We're looking for speed, then power, then stealth. All captains, I want your recommendations!" Our forces were split into Groups of around ten with a Captain in charge of that Group. Captains reported to one of my ten Generals who report to me. Spies are different in that they all report to Fishlegs who shares that information with a few men he handpicked to help him, and they present their findings and recommendations to me.

Within minutes, we had assembled a fine-looking raiding party with everything I needed: we were all fast, those who weren't were strong enough to carry more things than the others, or you were a mix of the two and very sneaky.

We approached the village without incident. Fishlegs had one of the spies whose report had led us to these caches lead our squad, and we were able to sneak behind Spitelout's defenses quiet easily. The front line and encampments were about fifty yards away, and we slowly made our way towards them. As we got near, we noticed that most of the men were asleep in tents, and some lookouts were placed on roofs to watch over Stoick's movements. If we were quiet (and lucky) we could get close enough, grab whatever we could, and hall ass before they would notice us and raise a cry.

Once we were within ten yards there were no more hiding spots between halls, so we prepared ourselves. All roles had been assigned beforehand, and we went over hand signals as we sat silently. Once we were pleased that everything was ready, the men moved forward. Fishlegs had nominated our scout as this squad's commander and so far she was doing a flawless job.

The first men got to the boxes but froze as someone began walking their way, and signaled for the others to do the same. The crates were tall enough that they couldn't been seen over, but if the person walked past the edge and glanced down the alley he would have seen twenty grown-ass Vikings sneaking around and using hand signals to steal his stuff.

My eyes were glued to the edge of that box, mentally preparing for what would happen if someone came around it. Leaning against the side of the box and waiting was Torchwax; personally, I wasn't a fan of the guy. He is both one of our fastest and strongest, and is stealthy to boot, but is also full of himself and was not thrilled to not have been chosen as captain.

Surely enough, I saw someone walk past the box and keep going, their head turned away from the alley and their body turning to go away from us anyways. I thought we were about to get extremely lucky when he stopped and turned around, and my heart sank to my stomach. Without hesitating, Torchwax reached up and slit the man's throat and yanked his body back behind the crate, effectively saving our operation and ending the guard's life. From there, the men wasted no time taking what they could and scampering off like planned, and I was left dumbfounded before I remembered that I, too, should flee.

With every step I took towards our camp, I got a little madder. Anger brewed inside of me until I made it back to camp, and every second I waited as we counted heads and assessed our booty just made it worse. The crowd cheered when our commander announced that the mission was a flawless success.

I calmed the crowd down. Once I had their attention, I made my play.

"I would like everyone involved in the mission to line up; no particular order." I called out. They complied, slightly puzzled but said nothing. Even Fishlegs lined up, seeing as though he stuck with me and did not do much, he was still there. "It's true that our commander led a flawless mission; there is not a thing wrong she did, and everyone here needs to go out of their way to congratulate her on a job well done. However, the mission itself was _not_ flawless!"

I walked down the line slowly, counting the number of steps before I made it to my target.

"What was this mission's purpose in the grand scheme of our battle? I am here to reunite Berk under one banner, and this mission served to strength ourselves and weaken our rival. However, want I do not want, and what happened…" I trailed off, only two steps from Torchwax. Once I reached him, I abruptly stopped and let loose a fierce punch to the gut that doubled him over and knocked his breath away. "…was the murder of an enemy. Torchwax here decided that a man no longer deserved to live. As an enemy nearly spotted us, he chose to slit his throat rather than knock the man out. That is NOT what we are here for!"

I weighed my options. I'm pissed and am _going_ to make this fucker remember this, but killing him would contradict my message, and injuring him would make me one man weaker in the long run.

"We are here to save Berk, not destroy it! We're waging war against our own brothers and sisters! There is no reason to kill anyone unless your own life depends on it! One day soon, we will all wake up and go about our lives as normal and will have put this 'war' behind us. When that day comes, do _you_ want to look over at a widow and her children and remember how you killed their husband and father over something so trivial? If you're still here with me, then you don't believe in Stoick or Spitelout; you believe that they are taking things too far and that neither are fit to lead. You're here because you believe, as I do, that the Hairy Hooligans shouldn't be killing one another. So as long as we still draw breathe, we DO. NOT. KILL. UNLESS. FORCED!" I yelled the last part, the clasp my hands together and spun, swinging my connected hands like a fist until I smacked Torchwax upside the head. He slumped to the ground, knocked out cold for the time being.

I decided that no more words were needed, and so I silently walked myself back inside headquarters and left the crowd to settle itself.

As I made it inside, I noticed a few new scout reports that must have come in while I was on the mission. I sat down and mulled them over all while something was nagging at me.

There's something I feel like I should be seeing. Some picture, some grand move by someone that I feel like I should have already recognized. I just haven't. Hiccup's occupied my head all day he's clouding my judgement and slowing my thought process.

I thought back to the raid we just completed; more specifically, how I felt and what I thought during the mission. There was no cloudiness, no distraction, no heartbroken homicidal heir hell-bent on hounding his home. It was clear in the way that a battle focuses and sharpens the mind and senses.

I tried to call back that feeling, that focus. Tried to make my mind and body realize the urgency I felt in my soul and the life-or-death decisions that I need to be making right now. I closed my eyes and let out a breath and summoned that battle clarity I desperately need, then as I opened them I trained them onto the scout reports with renewed focus.

I caught I glimpse of something, but it started to fade so I reimagined myself on the raid. I was scanning there, scanning over Spitelout's supplies and setup, and watching how empty and lifeless it all was. _They're sleeping; saving and restoring their strength_ I remember thinking.

But why?

As I thought back I remember during the chaotic scramble to get away that I moved into a position that gave me a clear view beyond the boxes of supplies and straight down the middle of Berk's main road. I could see past the defenses and tents, all the way to Stoick's side. There were matching hastily-made walls and tents behind those, but there were also very few lookouts. A bare minimum of lookouts, much like Spitelout's side.

Suddenly, the pieces fit. It made sense. Both armies are resting with minimal lookouts because they're both preparing for a fight. They both want to be at full strength for a battle. The men in the tents must have been assigned to protect the front lines, and the rest of the men must still be back at their main barracks. They're probably sleeping there too. Judging by the absurd amount of supplies being stockpiled at this battleground… I would have to guess that they're both planning for an all-or-nothing confrontation. They must have grown cocky when my men started deserting and written me off as a non-factor, and they're both stubborn enough to believe their forces will come out with a resounding victory. If they're resting in the daytime then all odds point to this fight happening tonight, maybe just before or right at sunset.

This… this isn't something I'm going to be able to stop. This is a sign that Hiccup won; not that he was right, because he had to cheat me to get it. But it does mean that he won.

So now I'm left with two options. I can bring my entire force and make it a three-way battle, and hope that the element of surprise is enough to turn the tides, or I can wait it out and attack whoever is left at the end of the battle. From a tactical standpoint, that last option is the best, but there are two reasons I can't bring myself to do that. To wait would mean I would chose to let Stoick and Spitelout kill as many Vikings as they can, which is an idea that sickens me and that I have been foundationally against since heading my own army. The other reason is that if I waited for those two to destroy each other, it would be a perfect example of the ruthless nature of Vikings that Hiccup is so intent of destroying; to do so would be to surrender in yet another battle with him. He cheated for the overall victory, but I won't let myself lose this battle all on my own.

My decision practically made itself. It's a longshot, but I have no other choice at this point. Tonight, if Stoick and Spitelout are dead-set on destroying the Hairy Hooligans, then they'll have to make sure I'm dead first.

I walked back outside, and as I exited the door I found Fishlegs there about to come inside.

"Ah, Fish, good. Stoick and Spitelout are gearing up for an all-out battle tonight."

"I know. My scouts just found me and gave me verbal reports and I come to the same conclusion. What's the plan?" Fishlegs asked. I noticed that all my generals had not-so-subtly gathered around close enough to hear my answer.

"I'm planning on throwing my helmet into that ring. If you still support me, then I expect you by my side." I announced to moderately surprised faces, but everyone took the news without any comments. "Go tell your men to make all preparations then get some rest. As soon as it seems that the battle will start, we will march down there. And spread the word that in battle our goal is to dismember our foes. Losing a hand will stop an enemy in his tracks without killing him."

They all grumbled something in compliance that headed off to examine their men and deliver the news.

"What do you need me to do?" Fishlegs asked.

"Keep all the spies in the field. I want constant updates. As soon as there is movement I want to know about it within two minutes." I said. Before I went back inside, I decided to give one parting remark. "And have one of your spies wake me up when that happens. It wouldn't do for a commander to be sleepy during battle…"

Fishlegs chuckled quietly, more out of a need to ease the tension of our situation—balanced on the brink of a battle—then out of any humor. I hardly noticed. I walked back into the main room of headquarters and quickly made my way to my quarters. As soon as my head hit my makeshift pillow, I was out.

I was awoken to the face of a young teen—if I were more alert I would recognize her as one of our scouts—who urged me to get up and go see Fishlegs. In only a few short moments I realized why I had been awoken, and I sent the scout out of the room so I could prepare myself. Sure, all I had to do was put armor on top of what I was already wearing so it would have been fine for the scout to stay even if she had been a male, but I wanted privacy of mind, not body. After all, I was gearing myself up for what could be the last time, and if I did something wrong it very well would be the last time, so focus was needed. There was an odd feeling in my stomach, a mix of dread and nervousness and anticipation and adrenaline, and all of it mixed into that ever-familiar feeling that I was about to have a performance. This was pre-game, pre-battle, pre-life. What will happen out there is all that will matter.

Once ready, I hurried outside to find a commotion of people preparing for battle. Last minute weapon sharpenings, men and women focusing and finding their game-faces, a few faces being painted, and a few people have nervous breakdowns and their friends standing there ready to slap sense into them. Through the commotion I saw a mass of people huddled around a table and recognized them as generals, commanders, and Fish so I made my way over to them.

"What've we got?" I announced loudly to make everyone aware of my presence.

"We were right about the scale. Looks as if no side left anyone behind; this is for Berk." Fishlegs announced.

"Aye. Spitelout and Stoick both have the same idea. The houses and halls along the front lines—it seems that the battle will be fought along the main road—are being stripped down to make more portable shelter, and its doing a good job at making the battle zone much wider. Save for a few halls right in the middle that are along the neutral zone, they've turned the area into almost an area." That analysis came from one of Stoick's old think-tank members. He was underutilized and I don't think Stoick realizes how valuable he is to an army.

"What's the timetable for the battle to begin?" I asked.

"Ten minutes at the most." Fish replied.

"Shit." I exclaimed.

"Aye. Shit indeed, miss."

I took a moment to process everything—a last moment to gather my thoughts—as my eyes stuck themselves to the hilt of someone's sword.

"How quickly can you get everyone gathered so I can say somethings?"

No one answered, but instead Fishlegs mustered the courage to spin his finger in the air and then point behind me, and I got the hint and turned around to see my army standing there silently, waiting nervously for whatever may happen.

I quickly realized that they weren't looking at me; they all knew what was going on and I'm sure they've spent time debating what we should be doing. They're all looking _to_ me.

"I'm sure you're all aware what Stoick and Spitelout are about to do. They're going to start a battle that will end Berk. The time for talking or maneuvering or spying or scouting or waiting is over. The lines have been drawn and everyone knows who fights for what. Tonight, we are going to go down there and fight to save the future, and the present, of Berk. If we wanted Berk for ourselves then we would let them destroy each other, but that's not why we are here. We're here because we don't want to be the last generation of Hooligans. We know that if we weaken ourselves then we won't be able to survive even the feeblest of threats. So tonight, we are going to march down there beat some _fucking sense_ into those fools! Tonight the kiddie gloves come off and we put away the wooden swords. As your commander, my orders are for you to maim and de-limb as many foes as you can; they'll live without a hand but they won't keep fighting like that. As your shield maiden…as your sister…as your neighbor…as your _friend_ , if you don't have the luxury of lopping their arm off, if it comes down to your life or theirs…then I fully expect to see you try harder to maim the next guy. No one is going to get angry if you kill a man if you had no choice. We are fighting to save tomorrow, and that starts with you living to see it!"

If I was nervous about what the reaction might have been, I didn't need to be. The men cheered, stabbed their weapons at the heavens, and gave me all indications that they were committed to fight, kill, maim, and die for me tonight.

I'm not sure why, but I find comfort in that. It feels relieving.

My next few minutes flashed before my eyes. My body functioned just fine on its own, shouting orders and tweaking preparations as we marched to the battlefield. It felt as if I was a stranger spectating the actions of my own body through my own eyes. I finally gained control as we neared the battleground as evidenced by the ringing of steel.

"It's already begun…" One of my generals mused aloud, prompting a sarcastic remark from one of his men.

"Really, Svuckr? I never would have figured that out…"

"You know I could kill you, right? There's a battle right there and no one would ever know…"

I blocked them out before they distracted me. A passing thought mused that that could be the last sarcastic exchange I ever hear.

"Alright, split up." I ordered as I broke off to go around the far side. I had Fishlegs come with my group because there are no scouts to order anymore and if I get a moment of peace then I could pick his brain for battle tactics.

I assigned our group to one of the flanking sides because I wanted control over the timing. We sprinted our way back towards the woods and went around the far side of the village until we were in the tree line on the opposite side of the battle. We had a great angle to pinch both Stoick and Spitelout's forces against the main bulk of our army, and when the time was right I ordered the charge and had the men holler the whole way to intimidate our foes.

And like that, my battle instincts kicked in. I made the decision to charge with the men without any hesitation, and although the setting sun is in my eye that didn't deter me.

I first came upon two Vikings locked in battle, with one of Stoick's men with his back slightly towards me. Both men looked over at my forces and I with bewildered eyes and I wasted no time hacking off Stoick's man's sword-hand. His foe was too shocked to move before I rolled and brought an upper cut to his gut then knocked him unconscious with my axe hilt as he bent over in pain.

It felt weird to be aiming for hands and arms and disarms and knock outs, but there was a rhythm to it that I felt I could tap into. I didn't need to completely outplay a man to take his life; I just needed to get him sloppy enough to expose a wrist.

Both the opposing armies were confused and in chaos as the beauty of our flank, along with the rest of our army, came to fruition. Enemy commanders were calling for regroups but in the distance you could hear bellows from higher-ranking soldiers and occasionally Stoick and Spitelout themselves saying to push forward.

One of Spitelout's bruisers—a fucking bull of a man—saw me with no ally within ten feet and charged. He saw an opportunity to make his mark and he was coming for it.

I didn't fully dodge his shield-ram and ended up on my back in a daze. He walked over me and twirled his sword with a smile that would normally chill the bones of men, but I wasn't in the mood for that sorta shit. I had fallen on my right hand and it was almost too easy to grab one of my spare daggers and fling it into the man's abdomen. It didn't penetrate his chain mail but caused an uncomfortable poke that bought me the time to jump to my feet and lunge at his throat with my other dagger. I didn't even have time to slit it; I just jammed it straight through.

I backed away and realized I should be assessing the battlefield. I started heading back to the woods to climb a tree and get a better view and silently cursed Hiccup for hogging dragons. I spotted Fishlegs and was relieved to see that he was coming with me.

We got to the woods and I quickly scanned the area for a good tree before settling for a decent one.

"Fish, give me a boost here." I said, turning around to let him lift me up.

I was met with the hilt of his sword connecting to my temple and my world went black before I hit the ground.


	11. All is Fair in Love and War

V for Viking

Author's Note: Alright so this is my first chapter being fully written from the comfort of my dorm at the great University of Tennessee. That doesn't actually affect anything; it's just a milestone that holds a tiny sliver of personal significance.

This _**IS**_ the Finale.

As always, leave your thoughts in the comments and since this is likely the end I want to hear your thoughts. Also, since this is the last chapter, I'm actually gonna proofread this one… :D

Enjoy!

Chapter 11

Dullness. That's the first thing I can remember feeling. My vision was black and my head was pounding but I couldn't feel much else. My body felt dull. I couldn't even tell if my lack of vision was because my eyelids were closed. Sounds seemed distant and their muffled noises blended somewhere in a distant corner of my head.

I couldn't remember what happened or how I got like this. All I could think about was how good sleep felt right now; I should just rest. Stop trying to remember, or clarify, or focus, or fight.

 _I should stop trying to fight_. It was that thought that sparked my mind back into action. I shouldn't stop trying to fight. I should _start_ fighting. Whatever this is shouldn't beat me. I would never stop fighting.

And so, painstakingly slowly, I began to return to the world of the conscious. My head was still pounding but I was able to focus through it, though with some difficulty. Those distant noises were revealed to not be in a corner of my head, but far off sounds of battle, barely audible in my state. Feeling began to return to my body, and I found that I was lying on the ground. I started to separate the different levels of pain in my head; I found the ache to be a resultant of a blow to the side of my head.

Memory still eluded me and my eyes were—I did confirm—closed.

One of those I can change, and I did as I forced my eyelids to crack open. The sky was darkening from sunset. _Sunset_. Why did that feel familiar? Did I have plans at sunset? Was something going to happen at sunset? Was H-

 _Was Hiccup doing something at sunset?_

My mind began to race back to me, though not completely. Sunset was when the battle was set to begin. Hiccup had cheated; he had to have conspired to have my announcement changed. He must be the reason my head hurts. He must have attacked me.

But as I fully opened my eyes and glanced around, I didn't see Hiccup hear to gloat. I saw Fishlegs.

I was relieved momentarily to see an ally and a friend come to my aid, that is until the last of my memories came back. Wasn't Fishlegs the one who attacked me?

He was. As my wits fully restored themselves, I remembered turning to be smacked with the hilt of Fishlegs' sword. Why? Did Hiccup somehow get to _Fishlegs_? Is it possible he turned him against me?

"G-good. You're awake." Fishlegs called out with evident nervousness, but also with a conviction and anger.

"Fish…? How could- Why would…?" I fumbled as I found my faculties still not fully restored. I took a moment to collect my thoughts. "Did _he_ put you up to this?"

"He authorized me, yes, but it was my suggestion." Fishlegs replied. This left me with too many questions to ask in my current state. How did they meet? Why go along? What does he mean he suggested it?

"Why?" was all I could ask.

Fishlegs shook his head as if he was trying to shake a thought from his mind.

"I really think I could have supported you. I really do think you would have made a great leader, but I can't trust you. Not after what you did to R-Ruffnut in cold blood…"

My mind hung on that last sentence in two different places. _Ruffnut? Cold blood?_

"Ruffnut?" I asked, hoping that he would understand the question despite my broken sentences.

"You really don't even _know?_ The morning that Hiccup came back, we got engaged…"

That news, while surprising that I didn't know it, did not come as a true shock. Or at least, under normal circumstances it wouldn't be a shock.

"I was… busy." I gave as an excuse, though it was true. I spent the next days doing all I could to stop Hiccup and I was so focused on that that I don't remember much of anything else that happened in that time.

"What do you mean 'cold blood'?"

"Don't give me that, Astrid. You knew she was following you. All you had to do was loose her; you didn't have to…to ambush her in that alley." He accused angrily while also struggling to mention Ruff's death.

"W-what? She attacked me!"

"You're not going to trick me, Astrid. I'm not stupid. You're not…you're not going to talk your way out of this." As he finished, he produced a knife from out of his belt; its intended use was made clear as he started walking towards me.

He had been lied to. He wasn't told that Ruffnut was trying to _kill_ me. He was being blindly lead.

My mind tried to kick into overdrive, but in my current state my words couldn't keep up and I fumbled my sentences. Clearly he was tricked by _him_ , lied to by _him_ , and manipulated by _him_ , and I need to tell Fishlegs that, but in my state I can't seem to remember how to say _Hiccup_.

"Fish, please! Don't do- you don't know- you're being lied to by…by…" I struggled mightily to produce that name until eventually I went with whatever was close enough. "by that- that _Haddock boy_!"

Only a few feet from me now, Fishlegs stopped and chuckled at my inability to come up with a simple name.

" _Boy_? That's a large underestimate of Stoick _the Vast_ , Astrid!"

"W-what? _S-Stoick_?" I asked, completely lost.

Fishlegs looked at me like I was stupid.

 _Stoick_? Fishlegs betrayed me for Stoick? That would mean that Hiccup didn't have a hand in it. That would mean that…

It would mean that Fishlegs' betrayal happened naturally. It would be more evidence for Hiccup being right about this whole thing, about the nature of Vikings. It would be more evidence that I was wrong about the very people I've grown up with, about my own friends.

My mind started to spin with this new information but I found one caveat that allowed me to stay steady. Even if Hiccup didn't have a hand in this, he _did_ still tamper with my statement, which means he feared that I would be right about the village as a whole. He was afraid they would listen to reason.

As I clung to this thought, I did everything I could to avoid thinking any further about the subject for fear that I might find something wrong with my last chance at being right. However, one singular doubt crawled into my mind: how _had_ Hiccup done it? How did he swap my statements?

A thought crawled into my mind that I couldn't ignore: had Fishlegs been involved? Now that the thought crossed my mind I knew without a doubt that I would need an answer. I just needed to ask the right question—possibly my last question—to get Fishlegs to answer.

"So you…you were working for Stoick the whole time? You were…weakening us?" I asked, hoping that like most Vikings he would want to gloat about his achievements, and if he did, I hoped he would gloat about any _sabotage_.

I felt rather clever, despite my inability to fully formulate sentences and the fact that my most trusted friend was about to kill me and I didn't see it coming.

"As soon as you wanted to make your own army, I asked Stoick if I should infiltrate it. He loved the idea of having a spy; he doesn't yet even know of all the ways I weakened your forces…"

He started to gloat but stopped, and I _need_ that answer!

"You _weakened_ us? How?" I tried to ask cluelessly, hoping the thought that he was _so_ sneaky would make him boast more.

"You really never suspected? Raids on Stoick never worked but ones on Spitelout did. How intel on Stoick always seemed to contradict itself. Or how your personal statement was magically sabotaged to sound like you were foolishly mocking Stoick? I wrote that to make sure deserters felt Stoick was the true best choice and you were just slandering him…"

And like that, my world folded in on itself.

Hiccup didn't cheat. He didn't think I was going to win. He may not have ever been concerned. _He was… right_. The village has torn itself apart with relative ease. He just pitted two sides against each other and they've doomed themselves despite my every effort to stop them.

I laid my head back in defeat. My eyes simply stared ahead at the sky, unfocused and unneeded. Absentmindedly, I let Fishlegs approach me without protest until he was standing above me. He was confused at my sudden change in demeanor but I didn't focus on him after that. Despite my state, something caught my eye. Up above us, in a tree, was a figure I recognized.

I knew what was going to happen next. He wasn't going to let me escape this easily, not after I came to terms with defeat. He was going to rub it in.

My eyes half-heartedly followed that figure as he dropped out of the tree—dagger first—and landed on Fishlegs, killing him.

My savior had arrived, and he wore the face of my only friend—and enemy—left in this world.

He pushed Fishlegs to the side to finish bleeding out—not that it would take long—and helped me up to my feet. I stood there and looked at Hiccup with dead eyes, held myself in a clearly defeated posture. Hiccup met my gaze and I knew that he could tell what I had just figured out. I expected a grin, or a joke, or a lecture, or a gloat.

Instead, I got a hug. _A hug._

"I know what you're feeling. I remember that, when I first realized the truth, I needed a hug. I didn't get one then, and I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy…" he whispered to me.

When my shock subsided, I accepted the hug and buried my face into his shoulder while trying not to think about the situation. It wouldn't do me any good to dwell on anything but the kind gesture at the moment. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed tightly, both venting frustration and filling the overwhelming need I had to hold onto something at the moment.

When I finally loosened my grip, I realized that together we were shaking. However, I wasn't the one causing us to shake.

"Are you…nervous?" I asked surprised (and muffled by his shoulder).

"K-kinda. Well, yes." He answered. As he did so, I realized that his head was not on my shoulder but instead looking straight forward, as if he was staring at something. Or lost in thought.

"No matter what happens tonight, in the morning…everything will be over for me. One way or another, Hiccup will not be in this world tomorrow."

I couldn't think of what to respond with. Part of me wanted to try to talk him out of it and part of me wanted to comfort him, but I found myself unable to do either. Nothing I could think of saying felt right. I lost. I was wrong. So why should I be in a position to say anything?

Instead, I just stayed there, in the arms of my enemy, trying not to cry.

Eventually, he tried to pull away from the embrace, and I realized that I shouldn't try to force my enemy to stay in a hug. I also had an internal debate over whether I was allowed to call him my enemy anymore.

"Come on, it's time. I made sure to save you a seat." He beckoned me towards the village, which I now realized was the reason the sky wasn't black. It wasn't that it was sunset; it was night and the sky was illuminated with fire from the village.

As we got closer, I found out why. Scores upon scores of dragons were carpet-bombing the village, leaving nothing standing (or alive). As we walked along the edge of the village, I realized that in order to lead me out of the trees Hiccup had offered me his hand and I still had not let go. Now realizing this, I rationalized that I was still in need of an anchor, that I was still unstable and fragile since the revelation that Hiccup was right.

But even deep down that excuse didn't make sense.

As we walked around the destruction I could only imagine what had happened to the poor souls on that battlefield. Were they fried alive? Murdered by enemies as they watched the dragons rain down? Or did they all band together to wage a futile fight against an endless army of beasts?

Does it even matter?

Once on the other side of the village we reached the cliffs that overlooked the docks, where there were a few people still alive. They were all trapped by a massive ring of fire that was being constantly relit by swooping dragons, effectively trapping these people in a field next to the cliff. Hiccup directed me to some of the trees outside of the ring and told me that I could sit in the branches and the shadows would conceal me.

As I walked off, a massive four-winged dragon swooped down and picked Hiccup up with his claws. That dragon then flew up and joined the circling dragons before shooting down and landing in the middle of that field. The remaining Vikings—about ten, including Stoick and Spitelout—backed up and made a circle around the dragon while drawing their swords, but were confused when the dragon took off, leaving only a man in its wake.

His armor was, I now realized, painted with symbols and markings that only a few of which I recognized. Words like "treachery" and "penance" were scattered among words from other languages. It rendered him unrecognizable from that day in the area with Spitelout.

"Welcome, all!" He announced with a flair of mockery that I have become very familiar with. "I'll have you know you are an elite group, that's for sure. Everyone in this ring of fire had a hand in the destruction of Berk! We've got generals, warriors, spies, and the two main men themselves! Let's give everyone a hand for their contributions!" Hiccup mocked, while beginning to clap in a manner that clearly was meant to anger those around him.

"Who the FUCK do you think you are!?" Stoick bellowed.

"Me? I'm your Culmination. I'm the Values you've bred. I'm the Knife that cut the strings keeping your peace upheld. I'm the Offspring of your ideals. I'm the Poison from your venomous bite. I… will be the Last of you.

"And Stoick the Vast, I am here to challenge you to the death."

Everyone was understandably confused and angered by his speech. _I_ understood all the references and what he was getting at. Stoick merely grunted grabbed his hammer.

"Finally, he's shut up and condemned himself." Stoick grumbled to the cheers and laughs of the Vikings, even the ones who had sided with Spitelout.

As Stoick charged Hiccup, he drew a shiny sword and unfolded a matching shield from somewhere in his forearm-brace and stood ready for Stoick's blow. Instead of running Hiccup over, Stoick planted his feet and used his momentum for an upward, diagonal blow from right to left. Hiccup, being left-handed, reflected this blow harmlessly upward with his shielded right arm by swinging it the same direction as the hammer, causing the hammer to fly upwards and use Stoick's momentum against him. Hiccup continued this motion into a spin that allowed him to slam his shield into the small of Stoick's back and knock him over.

Angered, Stoick got back to his feet and gathered his bearings. As he stood there sizing up Hiccup, Hiccup wasted no time in taunting his father.

" _Just so you know, I was the one who attacked Gobber."_

This information enraged Stoick and he charged again, this time with a loud, bone-chilling holler. Hiccup was unfazed and dodge-rolled to Stoick's side; this left Stoick within striking distance and he recovered to bring his hammer straight down onto Hiccup, who put his shield up to block the blow. The ensuing sound of a metal clang rung everyone's ears, even my own from my perch in the tree, and left one end of Stoick's hammer cracked in multiple spots.

The impact drove Hiccup's knee into the ground an inch, but he stood up after the blow without any difficulty.

"I also killed Spitelout's friends, along with others…" Hiccup announced directly to Stoick's face.

With his rage rekindled, Stoick swung his hammer (with the non-cracked end in front) and Hiccup bisected the strike with his sword, cutting Stoick's stone hammer in half. Now without a weapon, Stoick was mostly defenseless as Hiccup brought his sword back down in a swipe across the side of Stoick's thigh, forcing him down to one knee. When Stoick looked back up, he was greeted with a Sword being rammed into his abdomen.

Things were now eerily quiet for seemingly no reason. The fires still burned silently, but no dragons swooped down to refresh them. No on looking Vikings made a noise or dared to breathe. You could hear every word said.

"Who. The Fuck. Are You?" Stoick coughed out as blood started pooling in his mouth.

Hiccup walked up to him and crouched down into a squat to level their eyes before lifting his mask to show Stoick his face, but not allowing anyone else to see.

" _I am the Sins of my Father_."

Hiccup put his mask back on and pulled the sword out of Stoick—ensuring he would bleed out—and walked a few steps away before turning back to look Stoick in the eye. Stoick's eyes revealed immeasurable pain and confusion muddled by tears that welled until they forced themselves to fall. Hiccup dropped his sword and stumbled a few steps backwards before tearing his eyes away from Stoick's. He turned to look at me and I could see that same pain and confusion in his own eyes.

It just hit him. What he did. Everything he's done. Now that it's done, he can't hide from it any more. The softer, truer side of him I've been trying to reach in is control and can't comprehend what he's just done.

I can see it in his posture as the rest of the Vikings begin charging him. They're furious at him and he isn't doing anything to fight back. He's backing away from every challenge and he isn't attacking anyone, only defending.

Eventually, he's backed into a metaphorical corner and has to fight back, and starts by tricking Spitelout into stabbing one of his own men and then using Spitelout as a shield. Somewhere from within the flurry of blows being exchanged he is sliced in the stomach and stabbed in the arm but he keeps going. He keeps going and going until it's him and one man left, wrestling by the Cliffside. Hiccup gets a grip from behind and flips him over his head and off the cliff, but falls over himself.

I gasp and hop down from my tree and cross the now-dead fire ring, and as I approach the cliff I see a hand reach over and find purchase. By the time I'm there, Hiccup has climbed back up and taken a seat at the edge.

I sat down next to him, letting my feet dangle like his, and he just starts taking off his armor. He starts with his mask, removing it and staring into it before chucking it off the cliff.

He continues next with his left arm-brace (his shield is still lying by his sword and his dad's body) and takes off the right one too before chucking both of them.

He continues this complex process of removing armor with his chest and back plates, and chucks them.

He also removes his blood-stained under-shirt and launches it as well.

Now topless, he stops, since he never received a wound lower than that. He has a stab wound in his abdomen that he takes care of first, methodically burning it with a small match before sowing it up. He never speaks a word but his breathing betrays the pain. Next, he sews up the slice on his arm using the same method. He continues this process for all of the small nicks that he deems worthy, and once finished he chunks his small medical kit that was previously stored underneath his chest plate.

After that, he just sat there, staring off into the dark night and the black ocean. And I sat there, watching his face and eyes, illuminated by the still burning village.

"Well, I really fucked it all to shit _this_ time, didn't I?"

There was no humor in his voice. It was solemn.

"Yes."

"And what do you make of all of… _this_?"

"I think... I think that you knew this is how this would end. You're too insightful not to have known. I think you even knew that it was all wrong. I just think you ignored that, or even accepted it, and did it because no one could stop you."

He never replied to that. He didn't affirm or deny it, but I felt it was obvious he didn't disagree.

His eyes trailed down shamefully and glanced over at me before going back to the dirt.

"And…what do you think of all… _this_?" He asked, dejectedly gesturing to himself with his hand.

It wasn't a question I could honestly answer. I don't really know where to begin to answer it.

But I can try.

"I think that you are, simultaneously, the greatest and worst person I have ever met. I have never hated…or loved…anyone as much."

He looked back up shamefully and we made eye contact for a fleeting moment. It was heartfelt and real but painful and wistful. It was surreal. Even given everything recently, it was the most confusing thing I have ever experienced.

If I had to summarize the emotion that look shared, I would say it was the sadness of a missed opportunity. The shared feeling that, in another life, we could have had something amazing. The feeling that if things had transpired differently, we could be happy. The feeling that maybe, if I wasn't as angry at him or as dedicated to beating him at his own game, that I could have realized what was right in front of me…

Logic wasn't the way to save Hiccup. There was no amount of rationalizing or arguing that was going to change his mind. I wasn't going to talk him out of his priorities. I should have given him a new one. Even in his cave it was there, in the background: a tension between us that I should have recognized.

 _All I had to do was be there for him._

I never recognized the pull we had on each other. He was hurting and alone and I was the first person he met that he didn't want to kill. I was the first person he opened up to.

 _How could I have not seen that?_

It feels so obvious in hindsight. There's only one reason that he would chose to open up to me so easily, and let me try to stop him. He gave me the chance to prove him wrong and, if I could, stop his goals. The only reason he would do that is if I was more important.

 _He loved me and was reaching out for my help_.

Hiccup stood up and walked back a few steps, and I stood up to follow him. I stood there watching him staring at his handiwork. I could see him grimace and it make my heart wrench to watch him. And I realized something.

 _I could have loved him back but was blind._

That's all it would have taken. If I hadn't been so foolish I would have realized that stopping him wasn't a matter of the mind. It was a matter of the heart and I missed all opportunities.

As he turned around to look back at me, I decided not to miss another opportunity. By the time he fully faced me I had already reached him and closed the distance between our lips. It was short-lived, only lasting maybe ten seconds, but it finally conveyed what had been left unsaid.

"What…what was that for?"

"That's my way of saying I'm sorry. I could have helped you stop this but I chose to fight you instead. If I had done that sooner...this may never have happened." I choked out, losing the fight against my tears.

Hiccup was taken aback, but settled into himself readily enough. He thought it over, I could tell, and didn't have anything to add.

"So…now what?" I asked, eyes still glassy.

"I think there's only two options. After all I've done, is…is there any chance I can convince you to fly away with me? Leave this all behind and start over. Have a chance to make up for all I've done or make a new life together somewhere and put this all behind us. If I did that, would you go with me?"

I thought it over, much longer than I needed to because I didn't want to rush to a decision, but my answer was easy.

"I…can't. No, I can't go with you after all of this. I may love you, but I don't think I could ever forgive you. We couldn't have a life together… I'm sorry."

He took the news with a sad face but did not seem very surprised. I feel that, deep down, he knew that I couldn't, but I can't blame him for asking. It is a tempting offer, but it would dishonor everything I've stood for to do so.

Well, more so than kissing him did.

"Then… well, I guess we duel then. One last time, winner takes all."

"Or at least what's left. Which is?"

"The other's life…" He answered quietly.

We sat there and looked at each other for a few moments, unsure how to proceed. I decided to walk up and give him a quick, meaningful hug; I did it more to assure myself that whatever happens next isn't personal. It's just our only option.

As I broke off and backed up a few steps, he pulled out two swords that were folded into each of his thigh-plates. They were thin and slightly curved, but looked like they would cut through anything. He tossed one to the ground in front of me and as I went to pick it up, a Nadder landed nearby with a saddle on its back and multiple weapons hanging from it.

"Go ahead and arm yourself with whatever else you want. You won't find better weapons anywhere."

Once I picked up his sword, I was amazed at how light it was. I've seen Hiccup cut through other swords and stone hammers without denting his weapons, but if they can do that and are _this_ light? You don't even have to be a great swordsman to win any duel.

I went to Hiccup's weapon array to find all of the other weapons to be of comparable quality. I made sure to arm myself with plenty of daggers and knives, and also took a backup sword that folded in on itself and stuffed it in my waistband. Once we were finished arming ourselves, Hiccup sent the Nadder away but it only flew to the edge of the clearing before sitting down to apparently watch us.

We stood ten feet apart and prepared ourselves. We agreed that I would remove my armor from the waist up, so I was standing in my normal battle garments and he was still shirtless. We both held one of his matching swords from earlier and readied ourselves for the fight.

And then he charged. I charged back, and our first blow crossed directly in front of us and left us deadlocked, pushing back against the other. No headway was made so we both backed out of it before Hiccup took the initiative. I let him, as I wanted to test how mobile he could be with his earlier wounds still fresh. He went for a downward diagonal blow that I parried, forcing him to reposition himself before his next blow. This one was almost identical but with an added feint that caused my parry to miss, and I had to lean back to avoid being ended then and there. I wasn't completely fast enough, and he cut a hole in my shirt and bindings that went from my left shoulder down and over to my right hip. I blushed a bit as the cut created a flap that folded from its own weight, which would have revealed my bindings had he not cut through them also. Because of this…wardrobe issue… everything from my left shoulder to my right hip was exposed, including a small cut made during his slice and my entire left boob.

As embarrassed as I felt, I knew that having that flap flopping back and forth would annoy me so I made a quick decision to cut the whole flap off before it got any bigger, and I sliced it with my sword. I looked up to find Hiccup blushing more than I felt that I was while also doing a poor job of not staring. I wasn't extremely mad—I mean, what could he do?—as earlier I may have down the same while he was stitching himself up.

But right now, he was distracted by it, and if I could use my boob as a weapon, why not?

I pressed my attack which forced him back to the real world where he was now quickly giving up ground. I had knocked his sword out of his hand when I had lunged at him and now he was trying to dodge my blows. He threw his hips backwards to narrowly dodge a horizontal slice but I stepped into the next one to make sure he couldn't dodge backwards. As I brought it back to do another horizontal attack, he dropped straight to his back and let the blade harmlessly pass over him before kicking up with his feet and knocking my sword out of my hand with one foot while also knocking away the backup sword in my belt with the other foot.

In my surprise I fumbled for one of my daggers but forgot that his feet were still flailing as he took out my legs and knocked me to the ground. He scrambled to his feet as I fell, and once I looked up he was standing above me with his own dagger. He tried to bring it down on me, but I reached up and kicked him in the chest with my feet and knocked him back into his back (again).

We both scrambled to our feet and the same time, each with a two new daggers held in the traditional daggers stance. Blade facing out, ready to swipe.

He attacked first with the dagger on my right and I caught his elbow with my forearm and held it out to the side. He tried to use this to slice at my stomach from the left but I thrust my wrist in behind his and pushed it outwards, forcing his momentum to make him spin to my right. I pushed with my right hand before releasing his arm and used my newly freed right hand to leave a long slice down his back before delivering a swift kick to knock him on his face.

He let out a yell when I cut his back and grunted as he hit the hard ground, but he bounced back up quickly. Now, I needed to outlast him before his lost enough blood to pass out, or at least get close to where his reactions would be slowed. He knew this two, and launched himself at me with renewed vigor, hoping to end the fight before it got that far.

He ran at me and threw one of his daggers at me, hoping I would dodge sideways and be unprepared for when he rammed into me. Instead, I rolled forward and ended up behind him, with Hiccup unable to stop his momentum in time to hurt me. I took one of my extra daggers and flung it at Hiccup, and surely enough as he stopped to come back at me my dagger inserted itself into his lower abdomen. It didn't hit anything vital but it stuck deep enough that removing it would only further doom him.

As he staggered backwards and inspected his new wound, I ran up kicked him back onto his back. His groans grew louder now, and he began to see how the fight would end. He scrambled back up to his knees but stopped as I held my dagger against his throat.

He looked up at me and made eye contact, and suddenly I began to freeze up. I had won. It was over. The only option left was to finish this. It was almost a kindness to end it for him, but deep down I felt uncertain if I could do it while staring into his beautiful, if desperate, green eyes.

"P-please. Don't make me wait any longer." Hiccup choked out, but it didn't help. Hiccup asking me to go ahead—telling me it was okay to kill him—didn't help my emotional state.

"It's okay, Astrid. I need you to do this…" He choked out further, only making my tears come back.

He looked up into my eyes one last time and _smiled_ —a sweet, heartbreaking smile, as if he was watching someone precious to him—before lowering his head and accepting his fate.

He then tried to stand up and attack me. He popped up extremely quickly but was slow with his attack and I instinctually stuck my dagger into his chest. He didn't want me to feel guilty, so he gave me no choice.

He dropped his dagger and stumbled backwards, but I was there to catch him and gently rest his head against the ground. He reached up with his hand and played with a strand of my hair that had fallen down, and I started to cry and lost track of his hand until I felt it again: grabbing my left boob. I looked down shocked and my face turned red, and I'm sure his would have if he had any blood to spare. He let go as I look at him funny, and simply smiled as best he could.

"Sorry. Always wanted to do both of those…" he defended himself feebly. Despite the situation, I found it in myself to smile at his comments. "I guess I can die peacefully now."

Those were his last words, and I'll never been sure if they were a joke or not. Leave it to Hiccup to have his last words be sarcastic, after all. But I also feel that he meant it, too, so I guess it wasn't just a joke.

I closed his eyelids, or what I think were his eyelids as I could see them through my teary vision, before just sitting and weeping. Not crying, but truly weeping over everything that had happened.

I finally found it in me to move when the sun began to rise over the horizon. I backed away from the scene, and as I did Gronkles began to fly down and coat all of the bodies with molten metal, until all of them were buried underneath and within large piles of metal, with Hiccup's being built up until it was a large mound taller than myself. I felt if that was the burial these men were to receive, the least I could do would be inscribe their names on their tombs.

For Hiccup's, I felt more should be added. I sat for a moment and thought of what could do justice to this scene; after all, for anyone who came and found Berk gone, they would need to know what happened.

Eventually, I settled with this carving.

 _Here lies the Last Heir of Berk_

 _Whose grief caused him to go Berserk_

 _He drew his Sword against his own Town_

 _And now they all lie with him in the Ground_

 _He had the Heart of a Man_

 _And a Dragon's Soul_

 _But he was betrayed by Vikings and_

 _He lost all control_

 _Now he has Taken down all but I_

 _Astrid, once Faithful, once Loyal, now the only Remaining_

 _And to my village I waved my goodbye_

 _As We took up the Fight at the end of Day's Light_

 _And I avenged my home as just as the fire was waning_

 _Now I give them both a funeral they're undeserving of_

 _The Village is Ash_

 _And I am the Last_

 _And must cry "Goodbye, My Love"_

That was the best I could do as with the little time I had before the metal cooled, but I felt it at least somewhat preserved the legacies of all sides.

I turned around to find Hiccup's Nadder from earlier with her saddle sitting there, practically begging me to climb aboard. I walked up to it and found that there was a letter sitting on the seat, pinned to the leather by a small dagger. The dagger itself was gorgeous, inlayed with gold inscriptions and precious gems along the handle, with the words "My Queen" worked into the pattern.

Underneath the letter was a new long-sleeved shirt with hooks that seemed designed to connect to the saddle. I took off what remained of my shirt and used it to make makeshift bindings before sliding the new shirt on. It fit surprisingly well.

The letter started off as an inventory of all the supplies in the saddle, along with instructions for the other dragons with saddles which apparently held more treasures. Beneath that was a handwritten note.

 _Astrid,_

 _If you're reading this, then I was write about you. I can't predict the events leading to my death, but I know that it was at your hands, and I'm not surprised. I'm leaving everything I had to you; not like there is anyone else, but you are my first choice._

 _In the innermost pouch of this saddle is a book. I have updated it throughout the years with all the knowledge of riding, taming, and dealing with dragons I know, along with the directions to my various homes and hideaways. It is yours to do as you wish._

 _Good Luck, Goodbye, and Thank You_

 _Hiccup_

 _P.S: This is Stormfly. You two will get along great!_

The waterworks came back, so I had to wipe my eyes as I read the letter. I climbed into Stormfly's saddle and realized it fit me rather well. I decided to reach into that pouch and pulled out the book.

" _How to Train Your Dragon_ , huh? He never could name things well… Except, maybe you, Stormfly." Stormfly squawked in what seemed to be appreciation. "Well, where do you want to go?"

I don't know why, but I could have sworn I felt a voice whisper:

 _Let's go find Home_.

And I couldn't agree more.


End file.
